


An American Ghost Story

by LanaBanana25



Series: American Horror Story: Murder House [1]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: Bloodplay, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Necrophilia, Teenagers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2575259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanaBanana25/pseuds/LanaBanana25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternative version of the goings on inside the Murder house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, this is my first AHS related story. If you haven't seen the whole series of AHS: Murder House just a word of warning that there may be a spoiler or two.
> 
> It's my own take on it but of course all feedback and opinions are welcome.
> 
> This is obviously fictional, but it contains explicit sexual scenes including mild sexual violence and strong language for those who aren't into that. But then surely AHS fans love all that shit right?
> 
> Some super fans will notice references/quotes from other series dotted around as well.
> 
> Reviews and comments very welcome, hope you enjoy :)

Tate looked down at Violet from the other side of the room; lovingly watching her, like he always did. She was lying on her bed, humming away to a song by some band from this century that he'd never heard of; content in her own safe little bubble. 

He walked slowly over to her, still humming along to the song only she could hear, her eyes closed; fully immersing herself in that moment and completely oblivious to the boy stood over her. 

The boy that excited her so much it scared her, the boy whose eyes seemed to bore into her very core and see into her soul, as if he knew what she was thinking all the time which unnerved her. He was the very reason this house terrified her, but at the same time made her never want to leave.

He eyed her slowly from head to toe, her long hair was still slightly damp from her shower and flowing from her head to hang over the end of the bed. The scent of strawberries and cream filled his nostrils as he breathed her in deeply. She was dressed in nothing but an oversized Ramones t-shirt that had ridden up slightly, showing a flash of black cotton panties. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, she was so incredibly beautiful; he wanted nothing more than to climb on top of her, tear the shirt from her and take her roughly there on her bed.

After what seemed like an age of observing her with quiet fascination, she opened her eyes, letting out a soft gasp aftet seeing him stood over her, his molten chocolate eyes intensely locked on hers. 

"Hi," he said shyly with a half smile.

She smiled back up at him weakly, becoming a little nervous after she noticed him staring at her scantily clad body and jumped up, suddenly realising how underdressed she was. She sat up quickly and nervously pulled her t-shirt over her knees. Tate's smile spread into a grin as he let out a snort and went to sit beside her on the bed.

"Tate," she breathed, her heart thudding in her chest, "how did you get in here? You can't keep sneaking in here, what if my Dad catches you?"

"I don't think so" He smirked, raising an eyebrow, sidling up to her as she squirmed out of his reach to the top of the bed, "He's probably busy jerkin' off down in his office," he teased, tickling her under her arms as her face twisted in disgust at his vulgar remark. Her heart then sank rapidly as Tate grabbed her by the wrists as he caught a glimpse of the fresh welts streaked across them; his face a picture of sheer disappointment. 

She glanced down at the bed, avoiding his gaze, ashamed that she was the cause of that unbearable look. The cuts on her wrists suddenly felt red hot, as if Tate's eyes were burning into them. He confused her so much sometimes, at times he would be so sweet and sensitive; the way his eyes would fog up with tears at the mention of his mother who he never wished to talk about, the way she'd hold him without saying a word as he'd silently whimper, thinking that she didn't know. Unlike most girls she knew that would laugh at a boy who would bear his soul to them, she found it endearing, almost comforting to know that this beautiful boy felt the same quiet pain just as she did. 

Then there were the other times where he was entirely different; he'd have an arrogant air about him as if he'd just done something terrible and had gotten away with it, like he knew something she didn't. He lowered his head and sucked at her wrists softly as she recoiled. "Urgh, gross!" She cried, feebly pulling away from him as he clung on. 

"Yeah! It is gross," he scolded, "I thought I told you to stop doin' that!" He Took her fragile wrists in his hands, gently stroking the fresh cuts with his thumbs. She snatched both hands away from him, putting them behind her back to hide them; her eyes remaining locked on the bedspread beneath her.

"Never mind that," she mumbled, desperate to change the subject, "you can't just barge in here Tate, why can't you knock or text, you know, like normal teenagers?" The last part she'd said with an insincere smile on her face, making Tate chuckle and forget the upset from seconds before. 

He then paused for a second, and his grin turned into an intense stare as he then crawled up the bed, his eyes fixated on her. He placed his hands on her knees and coolness of his skin made her shudder; her eyes met his as he gently pulled her soft bare legs apart and slid up towards her until they were nose to nose. He could feel her breathing become sharper and her legs began to tremble.

"I thought the fact that I'm not normal was what you liked about me," he teased huskily, pressing his lips upon hers. He knew she wanted him, he could tell by the way her body responded whenever he touched her. God only knew how much he wanted her; she was so pure and inexperienced, and that turned him on so badly. The way her eyes sparkled when she looked up at him captivated him, she was utterly fascinating; but no matter whether she was smiling or crying there was always a silent sadness behind those eyes. A sadness he understood all too well. 

"Tate, don't," Violet moaned as he groaned against her mouth, moving his hands over her thighs, pressing himself against her. She could feel his hardness on her stomach, stirring butterflies deep within her. She put her hands over his to push them away, but before she could protest he'd pulled her down the bed so she was lying on her back beneath him; lacing his fingers through hers and pinning her wrists by either side of her head. He leant down and parted her lips with his, snaking his tongue into her mouth. A soft moan escaped her throat as he quietly growled, his hands exploring her soft legs and roughly pulling at her t-shirt.

"C'mon Vi," he begged, "I want you so much." He pulled her up by the small of her back and removed her shirt in one swift movement, throwing it behind him onto the floor 

"No, Tate, don't," she moaned. She suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed finding herself in nothing but her bra and panties. His eyes roamed over her body hungrily, he was like a man possessed, his eyes had turned hard and black like onyx. She squirmed beneath him, trying to wriggle free when he suddenly froze, lifted her from him and got up from the bed to stand over her. 

"What's wrong?" He pouted, " you just said you want us to act like normal teenagers, right? Well this is what normal teenagers do. He approached her once again and knelt down in front of her, taking a strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear. "What are we waiting for? We love each other right?"

She looked into his eyes, she could almost see his frustration. She wanted him, and she loved him, but he scared her. He was so intense for a boy so young, he was unlike any other teenage boy she'd ever known, but in a way she knew that that's what had drawn her to him.

"Tate," she said, softly stroking his cheek. "I do love you, but, I'm just -" 

Tate frowned. "Just what? Scared?" He laughed almost mockingly, sliding his arms around her waist, "you never have to be afraid of me Violet. I'd never hurt you, you know that." He kissed her tenderly on the lips as she smiled, and let out a long exhilarated sigh as he ran his fingers through her hair and down her back. Her knees felt weak as he pulled away slightly and smiled reassuringly back at her.

He stood back up, taking her by the hand and pulling her roughly towards him to kiss her again, his hands expertly exploring her body, moving slowly down to her ass. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and lifted her up effortlessly, wrapping her legs around his waist as he walked her over to her dresser and placed her on top. She watched him warily as he took off his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You do love me, don't you Violet?" He crooned, pushing her legs apart and placing his hands on the dresser on either side of her, bending down to meet her face to face. He could feel her warm shallow breath as he closed his eyes, his nose gently tracing her jawline, taking in her scent.

"Yes," she whispered nervously, her eyes like saucers looking at him. She looked so young, so innocent. Violet never used to be scared of anything or anyone, until Tate. 

"Then prove it," he whispered, pulling her towards him, pressing his hardness between her legs as he softly brushed his lips against hers, his kiss growing more forceful and aggressive as she responded. She was embarrassed to feel herself getting wet and wondered if he had noticed. It seemed that her question had been answered, as at the very same moment he pulled away from her, and slid his hand between her legs. A slow lazy smile spread across his face as his noticed the visible wet patch on her panties, rubbing his thumb and forefingers together. She held her breath as he gazed back into her eyes, and before she could speak, he pulled her off the dresser, almost throwing her onto the bed. He fumbled at the clasp of his belt as he removed his pants as fast as lightening, and clambered on top of her. She whimpered underneath him, desperate to protest and make him stop, but at the same time the throbbing between her legs was crying for this boy to be inside her, to do things to her that no one else had.

"Please, Tate," she moaned quietly, as he delicately pulled her panties to one side and toyed with her wet slit, tracing up and down with one finger. His thumb parted her dewy lips and circled her clit, almost painfully slowly. The feeling was so alien, but so wonderful, she thought she was going to explode.

"Sshh," he purred as his finger slid into her, snaking up inside her as far as it would let him. Her eyes rolled back inside her head as another long finger poked inside her to join the other.

"You want this Violet," he breathed, his pace quickening, just a little, "I know you do." His eyes searched hers, but they were closed; she was squirming at his touch, her hips jolting as he dipped his fingers slowly in and out of her.

"I don't -"

"Look at me."

She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her; he removed his fingers from inside her and put them into his mouth, tasting her sweetness. She cringed at the sight and flushed red, lowering her eyes to look away. He chuckled and traced her cheek lightly.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, and leant down to kiss her hard on the lips, moving towards her neck where he licked and sucked and nibbled on her, tasting her clean, fragrant skin. His hands moved down her body, moving over her hip as the other cupped her small breast, pulling her bra cup aside to fondle her nipple, feeling it instantly grow hard at his touch.

"I need you Violet," he whispered, "you have no idea how long I've waited for you." The urgency in his voice was back, his black eyes burning into her as he made his way down her body, gently licking and kissing her from her nipples to her naval. 

"I don't know Tate," she moaned, "I'm not ready I -"

"You have no idea what you do to me, I can't control myself around you anymore." 

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down, sliding the fabric over her knees and past her ankles, tossing them away as he buried his face between her legs, his tongue darting in and out of her as if he'd been starved. He lapped up her sweetness until the juices trickled down her thighs as she moaned quietly into a pillow, desperately trying to muffle her screams. 

"Tate," she sighed, lost in a haze of ecstasy, her hips gyrating under him as he fed off of her hot virgin mound. He stopped and moved up the bed, putting his face against hers.

"Do you want me inside you?" Her mouth was dry as she swallowed and she nodded weakly; she didn't even know if she was truly ready or not, but he had this power over her that she couldn't understand. She'd never felt this way before, she didn't even know another person could make her feel this way, she'd always felt so empty, so without feeling. He'd filled a void deep within her that she never thought could be filled. 

"Yes," she whispered, her whole body shook as he removed his boxers and positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing the tip of his length up and down her slit. She writhed on the bed as her clit throbbed so much, it was almost painful. 

"Wh-wh-what are you doing?" She stuttered as she looked up at him. His cock twitched as he watched her, her eyes glassy with tears, pleasure and confusion; her fear seemed to spur him on. He moved the tip inside her lazily, watching her face become a picture of beautiful delirium. 

"Look at me Violet," he whispered urgently, holding her face in his hands as he waited for her eyes to open. She looked back up at him; a few silent tears escaped and ran down her flushed cheeks. He smiled, that boyish gentle smile that made her insides turn to jelly, made her feel like there was no one else in the world but the two of them. 

"It's gonna be okay baby, It'll only hurt this once I promise."

She took in a deep breath and nodded readily. Taking that as a green light, he pushed himself into her slowly and groaned, his eyes searching her face for a response. He leant down and kissed her softly, his tongue circling hers as he quickened his pace, pushing deeper, breaking past the thin sheen that once guarded her virginity. He sighed, exhilarated, and grunted with pleasure as soft pained moans erupted from her as he fucked her slowly.

"That's it, that's good," he cooed, "you're doing good baby."

He pulled himself up onto his knees pulling her up with him, his cock still buried inside her, grabbing her ass and standing up to carry her up to the wall by her window. Her legs wrapped around him obediently and her fingers threaded through his hair to try and keep her balance as he thrust himself into her over and over; she cried out, her pussy vibrating and contracting around him.

"Sshh," he whispered as his hand covered her mouth to muffle her screams. He bit at her neck, the smell of sex emanating from her pussy, intoxicating him and spurring him on as he slammed into her. 

It was then that from his peripheral vision he saw a light outside; Ben's car. He pulled Violet's face towards him with the flat of his hand, and crushed his lips against hers, never losing his rhythm. She was so deeply lost in this moment that she was completely oblivious to anything else around her. 

Ben got out of the car and walked up towards the front door of the house. He noticed a shadow lurking below from his daughter's window and looked up, believing he could see her there. He went to turn the key inside the lock then stopped for a moment and looked back up, believing to see yet another shadow.

"Is that?"

Tate looked down at him; aware that he could see them now in the faint glow of the lamplight. He pounded into her harder now, grunting as droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled over her breasts, all the time looking into her fathers eyes down on the driveway as he stood shocked, rooted to the spot and unable to look away. A slow, evil grin spread over Tate's face as he stared down at her father while he fucked his precious daughter like a rag doll; her head resting on his shoulder, blissfully unaware that her father was watching in horror from outside.  


"Violet?!" Ben shouted, flinging open the front door in a fit of rage, as he charged up the stairs in a fit of fury.

"Tate you son of a bitch, I'll kill you!"

Violet stirred, placing her hands on Tate's shoulders as he fucked her. She looked around her in a daze, as if she'd just woken up from a dream. 

"Wh-what was that? Tate did you hear something?" Tate ignored her. 

"Tate, I said did you - " 

"Violet; close your eyes," he said, a warning tone in his voice.

"What?!"

"Now," he hissed, his voice raised, demanding, and even though she had no idea why, she did as she was told. 

Ben flew up the stairs and into Violet's room, and to his surprise he found no one there. He was confused, his heart drummed in his chest as he caught his breath; he was certain of what he saw. He scanned the room, pulling open wardrobe doors, even checking under the bed to make sure Tate wasn't hiding, although he knew his daughter wasn't stupid enough to hide a boy under her bed; nor was Tate stupid enough to hide there.

"Violet? Violet are you in here?" He looked around once more until he eventually gave up, feeling a little silly, glad that there was no one around to see his irrational outburst. He could picture Vivien's face silently berating him coldly from the doorway, he could almost hear her scoff at how foolish he looked. He let out a sharp sigh, wondering whether or not what he'd seen was real at all, or whether it was this house was making him crazy like so many of his predecessors.

"I hate this fucking house," he snivelled, as he shut the door in frustration and went down to his office.

When Violet opened her eyes she realised they were no longer in her bedroom, but in another part of the house entirely. Her skin felt cold, and she was suddenly very aware that she was naked. 

"Where are we? How did we -"

"Don't worry," Tate interrupted, "we had to go, your dad came home. He would've ruined everything." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, his fingers finding her slick heat. He pulled one of her legs up around his waist finding he was still hard, poking at her once again. Violet pushed against him.

"I don't like this place, it's cold and dark, I can't see, where are we?" She looked around in the darkness, she couldn't see anything but the black glassy shine of his eyes looking into hers, making her tremble. 

"It's ok," he whispered, "it's just the basement." He pulled her close and kissed her hair, now tangled and still damp, breathing in the scent of sweat and shampoo. He took her by the hand and led her to a deep part of the house she was certain she'd never been before.

"Tate where are we going?" She pleaded, as he silently strode towards her, his beautiful naked body in all it's glory, his dick still huge and rock hard. He followed her back against the wall and put his arms by either side of her head. He leant in to kiss her and she trembled at his touch.

"This is pretty hot don't you think? I've always wanted you down here; there's something about the darkness and how creepy it is, drives me crazy." He grinned that lazy grin she usually loved, but for some reason he unnerved her now. A part of her wanted to run back upstairs to the safety of her room, but her body cried out for him to touch her, to be inside her again. She was drawn to him, like Eve to the apple. 

He led her over to a made up cot bed where he sat down and brought her to stand in front of him. She looked down at him not quite knowing what to do. He laughed, her innocence was like Viagra to him. 

"It's ok. I don't bite," he purred. "Come here baby." 

He reached out and pulled her closer towards him so she was straddling him at the edge of the bed, her hands on his shoulders as he positioned them both, his hardness ready to enter her again. He gently circled her nipple with his thumb and took one in his mouth. She exhaled loudly as he groaned into her tit, his tongue flicking and nibbling on her as he pulled her down by the hips and thrust inside her. She screamed in pleasure as he bounced her up and down on his cock. He stared into her eyes and held her tightly, a layer of sweat between them as he pumped into her again and again. Tears spilled from her eyes, he grabbed her face and licked the tears from her cheeks, never slowing his pace. He was deep inside her, her pussy throbbing in a combined thrum of pain and pleasure.

"Are you close Violet?" He breathed. "Open your eyes, I wanna see you come." He brought a hand down to her pussy and rubbed at her pleasure nub, she moaned into his neck, exhausted and filled to the brim with his rock hard length slamming in and out of her. She wasn't sure how much more she could take, surely something down there would break or malfunction? These feelings stirring inside her were both wonderful and terrifying.

"Come for me Violet," he groaned as he toyed with her clit while fucking her hard and fast as she convulsed on top of him. 

"I-I'm, I'm-"

"Come on baby, that's it, man you feel so good." Like a wild animal he was grunting as he pounded her virgin cunt over and over. She cried, exploding into a consuming orgasm. He groaned so loud the whole room echoed as he came inside her, their bodies trembling and soaked in sweat as he held her to him, their breath slowing together. She could feel his seed and her blood seeping out of her. 

She shakily pulled herself off of him, standing awkwardly at the side of the bed. She grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around herself, examining the room they had ended up in.

He silently beckoned for her to join him in the makeshift bed he'd made out of some old blankets he'd found in a box Vivien had stored away. She crawled into the covers, facing away from him so he wouldn't see her cry. He grabbed her by the hips and spooned her from behind, she could feel his now softer cock twitching against her back as he softly kissed the back of her neck. 

"I love you Violet," he whispered, kissing her hair and hugging her to him, the smell of sex all around them. He loved that smell, but it was especially intoxicating after having fucked a virgin, and with Violet it was a million times better than any virgin he'd had before.

"I'm tired," she said softly, and soon after she drifted off to sleep in his arms.


	2. 1994

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet learns more about Tate from a mysterious stranger

The next morning Violet woke up in her own bed and was once again wearing her Ramones T-shirt complete with bra and panties. She sat up in a daze and looked around the room, her tired eyes darting around, expecting to find Tate sat in the chair in the corner where he used to sit and watch her sleep. He was nowhere to be found.

She examined herself, confused, wondering whether last night had all been a dream. She slowly ran her hand down her body to the warmth between her legs. She still felt a little sore so she was sure she hadn't been dreaming. It felt too real to have been a dream, but that was this house for you, it made everyone batshit crazy.

She got up and grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her, just in case. She was used to Tate creeping up on her out of nowhere these days so she thought she'd take an extra precaution this time. Not that locks ever seemed to stop him before, it freaked her out sometimes how well he knew this house. She was glad that he wasn't around because now, she needed to be alone to gather her thoughts. 

The water felt good against her skin, the hot beads spraying her clean, taking away the lingering smell of Tate and a haze of sex which disappointed her a little. She liked the smell of him, knowing he was near, it made her feel safe. 

She closed her eyes, fully immersing herself under the jets, softly running her hands over her body, sucking in a quick sharp breath as her fingertips found the tender place between her legs once again. 

After hesitating slightly, she shyly began to circle her clit with her middle finger, and flashbacks from the night before entered her mind. 

She imagined Tate's mouth on her, the cool clammy feel of his skin, his strong arms lifting her up and slamming her delicate body against the wall and spearing through her, taking her virginity forever. Her breathing became deeper as the circles became faster and wider, low flames burning from inside her as she groaned to herself.

It was almost as if he was there with her, she could feel him stood behind her, the hot water cascading over the two of them as his hands guided hers over her breasts, down her stomach and between her legs. She could almost feel his breath on the back of her neck, he was whispering her name as she became lost in herself.

She thought she heard him whisper her name, her eyelids flickered as her middle and index fingers found their way into her hole, her virginity that had been claimed just the night before. She let out a long sigh as they slipped up inside her, a little easier than they had when she'd tried before, but then again her slender fingers were no match for Tate's impressive length.

She gasped as she thought she could sense him there once again, smoothing his hands down her back, gripping her hips, pulling her toward him, she daren't look back and risk seeing him there. At this point she wasn't sure whether she was imagining him there or not, she didn't care.

She grabbed the soap with her free hand and slowly rubbed it over her body, a creamy lather forming as she lazily fingered her pussy with the other hand. Her breathing became ragged and shaky, she felt hands on her, hands that didn't belong to her, slathering the soapy foam all over her body, her knees began to feel weak just as they had the night before. 

She could always usually sense when Tate was close by and she thought she could again; his fingers digging into her hips, his soft lips nibbling her earlobe, the tip of his hard cock teasing her slick entrance; but she couldn't see him. 

"Tate," she whispered as she came, quickly coming back to reality as she realised she was alone. She put her hand out and flattened it against the tiles to steady herself as she regained her composure.  
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up when she thought she could make out a shadow through the blurry glass of the shower screen, watching her. She clenched her eyes shut and opened them again, and the shadow was gone.

"Tate dear, you really must stop messing with that poor girl and tell her," old Moira said, busying herself with dusting the bookshelves in Ben's office with the feather duster that seemed to be permanently attached to her hip.

He scowled at her from Ben's large leather chair mockingly and smiled, that dazzling mischievous smile that made even man hating Moira stifle a snort and roll her eyes at his boyish charm. He span around, his head leaning against the head rest to look behind him at the strange, sad old woman he'd come become quite fond of over the years. Like a sort of mother he'd never had.

"Don't you ever get bored of cleaning all the time?" He had a grin on his face as his eyes followed her around the room inquisitively. He was choosing to ignore her advice and she knew it.

"This is no joke my boy," she nagged, "you really must tell her, and soon. She's a woman, Tate, and women find out everything sooner or later. Tell her, and soon, or she'll never forgive you. You're one of the lucky ones, some of us don't have the luxury of a lifelong companion."

There was a sad sincerity in her voice but with a stern edge. He had become almost like a son to her, even though he had been so troubled when he was alive,  
but then again this house did that to people. It wasn't his fault how he turned out, but that awful mother of his. "That old witch, Constance," she though angrily to herself, pitying the poor boy that should now be a man; a happy man with a wife and family, a life full of hope and fulfillment, not doomed to live in an eternity of nothingness, forever trapped in a child's body.

"I'll tell her...Tonight," he promised, getting up out of the chair, his facial expression becoming more serious, secretly yearning for Moira's approval and acceptance. She glanced over at him and a weak smile formed on her lips. She let her dusting arm drop to her side and stared out of the window longingly at distant places she could only now dream of going. "It really is all so sad isn't it," she sighed, "another poor soul forever shackled to this godforsaken house." Tate squirmed where he stood, sensing her sadness, and snuck out of the office, leaving the sad old maid to her thoughts. He tried to shake the image of her out of his mind, her ghostly eye watching his every move. His arms spread out besides him, fingers brushing against the chestnut walls as he strolled down the long corridor; Vivien was leaving to get to her Pilates class soon and Ben was away all day, so he'd have Violet all to himself for a while. He smiled as thoughts of the night before entered his head, Her soft body grinding underneath him, her soft lips, her scent, the feel of being inside her. His cock twitched in his jeans ever so slightly at being reminded of the best night of his existence. 

The basement had become Tate and Violet's own private sanctuary, Vivien never came down here, neither did Ben. Tate wondered why Violet even came down here, to someone that didn't know the house like he did and not knowing what lurked down here in the shadows, coming down to this basement would be like descending into hell itself. For most people, but Violet wasn't most people, she wasn't afraid of anything.

"So what'd you do today?" Violet said, feigning disinterest whilst dealing another card. A smirk spread across Tate's face as he glanced over at her.

"Thought about you," he replied shyly. He set down his cards and shuffled along the floor to a cross legged Violet. Her face flushed Scarlett as he chuckled and took her cheek in his palm and kissed it. She giggled and leant away from his touch. A confused frown formed on his face as he cocked his head to one side.

"Tate," she moaned, giggling nervously, as he shook his head and smiled shyly. A pained frown formed on his perfect, angelic face. He then realised how stupid that sounded and looked down at the floor avoiding her gaze, internally punching himself for saying it out loud. 

Violet suddenly felt bad for berating him, he loved her, there was nothing wrong with that. Sometimes she wondered whether it was too much though. He was so intense.

"You never hang out with anyone else? Like while I'm at school or whatever?" She realised she'd never asked him this before, and in the few months she'd known him she noticed that he never spoke about himself much. She put it down to the lousy childhood he'd mentioned and decided not to push him on it. 

"Sometimes," he mused, looking sneakily over at her, flashing her a cheeky grin. She stared at him for a second, a laugh erupted from her as he came and kissed her hard on the lips as she still giggled. She then remembered how she'd woken up that morning, fully dressed after specifically remembering falling asleep naked. She put her hand against his chest to stop him for a moment.

"Umm, Tate?" She cleared her throat, embarrassed at the question she was about to ask, "last night when we, fell asleep, a-after? In the basement? Well, I woke up this morning, in my room, and, and-" 

"And what?" He asked innocently. 

"Nothing, don't worry about it," she said dismissively, and looked down at her cards. The thought of what happened the night before stirred something in her, she wanted to feel that way again, for him to ignite the same fire he did by touching her, being inside her. She never knew it could feel like that. 

He shook his head and picked up his cards once again, pretending to be interested in the game they'd been playing, quietly wanting to change the subject "So you gonna deal or what?" He asked, shuffling his cards in his hands as she slowly crawled over to him. She took the cards from his hand, placing them down on the floor beside him, wrapped his arms around her waist and straddled him, her knees on either side of his.

"No," she purred, her closed lips forming a seductive smile.

He looked down at the cards she'd taken from him then slowly back up into her eyes, his own glimmered with excitement as he quickly pulled her closer to him, his hardening cock brushing against the heat radiating from between her legs, his head dipping under her chin to kiss softly along her neck. Her body relaxed in his arms as his lips followed her collarbone.

"So you wanna go again, huh?" He groaned against her neck, his warm breath tickling her sensitive spot. She gasped and shook her head as his hands ran down her back, his fingers lightly tracing her spine through the thin silk material of her dress, making her shudder.

"Tell me what you want, Vi," he whispered, his mouth moving slowly back up her neck and along her jawline, his other thumb teasing her lips.

"I...I,"

"What do you want me to do to you?"

"Fuck me," she whispered.

"Fuck you?" He asked, turning her chin to him with his thumb and forefinger, ever so lightly kissing her lips, staring intently into her eyes. She nodded.

"Uh huh," she panted.

"No," he teased. "Say it. Again. I wanna hear you say it."

"Fuck me, please." she begged, parting his lips with hers to lick his tongue, her pussy throbbing at the thought of him inside her.

He placed his hands under her ass and uncrossed his legs, flipping her over to lie beneath him. He kissed her hard on the lips, demanding and wanting. She writhed beneath him as he moved his hands inside her dress and up her thighs, grabbing at the elastic waistband of her tights and yanking them down along with her panties, ripping the flimsy fabric to shreds in his urgency. He unbuttoned his fly and pulled his jeans down over his ass and dragged Violet along the floor to meet him. She gasped in shock as his cock impaled her wet pussy in one swift movement.

He thrust into her, grunting as the sweat formed on his forehead, making his blonde curls matt and stick together. He pawed at the buttons on her dress, freeing her breasts, moulding them like soft clay in his hands. She wasn't wearing a bra and her nipples had already formed into hard pink nubs between his fingers. Breathlessly he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while pounding Violet's newly opened cunt on the dusty basement floor.

She squirmed and groaned against him as he fucked her hard and fast as if it was the last fuck they'd ever have. 

"I love you Violet," he panted as she moaned in agreement between hard sharp thrusts. Her fingernails clawed at his back through his thin white shirt and she pulled at it, ripping the material, exposing his skin to the cool dank air, drawing blood as her nails dug into his flesh. He cried out and placed his hands under her ass, pulling her hips up to meet his thrusts while her upper body convulsed on the floor. He continued to slam into her, his pulsating dick fit to burst.

"I'm coming," she cried, her fingers gripping his hips as she tried to match his rhythm. Her vision became blurred, that fire brewing inside her again.

"Yeah," he grunted, "come with me." He placed a hand on her back to pull her up to meet him and gave her a long, breathless kiss, growling into her mouth, his tongue exploring hers as he exploded inside her. She trembled as he held her, stroking her hair as they caught their breath.

Ben looked around the large modern kitchen, resenting every penny he'd put into this damn house. 

"Pasta arm," he scoffed, "what the fuck is that anyway?"

"Personally I find it rather useful." A low voice came from the doorway.

Moira.

Of course to Ben she was young and beautiful, not as the women of the house saw her; aged and frail. She sauntered around the kitchen, most of her ass revealed under her short petticoats. He looked her up and down and turned to face away from her.

"Why does she have to dress like that?" He whimpered internally to himself, suddenly grateful for the large bar separating her from him, hiding his twitching cock from view. His eyes followed her around the room as she strolled over to him, her small delicate hands fondling the strange contraption he'd been mocking just before.

"I need to clean in here now," she purred, bending down in front of him to open the cabinet under the sink to grab the bleach, slowly standing back up like a stripper giving a private dance.

"You need to stop this," he growled, his eyes fixed on the marble worktops, doing anything not to look at the heavenly body that she offered up him every time they were alone.

"Stop what Dr Harmon?" She said innocently. "I'm not back until next week and the kitchen needs cleaning."  
She crept up behind him and reached around his waist, her hands wandering below the worktop. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Although I can think of something else I'd rather be doing." She rubbed his groin with both hands as if kneading dough, he felt like giving in. She was beautiful and sexy, and god knew he wanted her. He closed his eyes and then he thought of Vivien, snapping out of his trance and quickly turned around to face her, holding her wrists out in front of her. 

"STOP!" He shouted, shaking her in his hands, "what the hell is wrong with you?" 

A smirk spread across her face as she glanced down the bulge that had formed in his pants. His eyes followed hers.

"I have to clean the dining room now, Dr Harmon." The smirk never leaving her face. Embarrassed and disgusted he tossed her wrists away.

"Go," he fumed, and she wiggled out of the room, blowing a kiss as she turned the corner. He buried his head in his hands, inhaling and exhaling deeply to try and calm himself down, one of the exercises he used on his patients.

"Dad?" He looked up and saw his daughter now stood in the doorway. He then remembered what he'd seen last night, or what he thought he'd seen anyway. He eyed her suspiciously as she walked over to the fridge and took out a bottled of Evian.

"Hey," he chimed, still watching her, "don't let your mom catch you with that!" She gave a faint laugh as her head emerged from the fridge. "Sit down for a sec would you honey?" She pulled out a bar stool and sat in front of him, taking a gulp of the water.

"What's up?" She asked, curious at his sudden change in mood, he'd seemed pretty pissed when she walked in.

"So I called Tate's mother today, told her I couldn't treat him anymore," he searched her face when he mentioned his name, checking to see if she flushed even slightly, then he'd know that what he saw last night was real.

"Oh yeah?" She asked, seeming somewhat uninterested, "how come?"

"I just don't think I'm the right therapist for him. I think his problems go way deeper than anything any 'headshrinker' can help him with." He still studied her face, looking for any signs, "have you seen him lately?"

"No, not for a while actually." She seemed calm and collected. Maybe he had imagined it, he'd seen things in this house before. Maybe he wasn't giving Tate enough credit. Sure the kid had a lot of issues, but he wasn't a monster.

"I see," he said, "Anyway, I have a patient coming in ten minutes, could you ask Moira to send her in when she gets here?" 

"Sure," she said as he left the room, her heart pounding as a result of her father's mini interrogation. She exhaled deeply and took another gulp of water.

"Liar liar pants on fire." Hayden edged around the doorway and snuck into the kitchen, a sinister smile planted on her face.

"Umm, are you my dads patient?" Violet asked nervously, wondering how she'd even got in, "he's waiting for you in his office."

"Naughty little Violet," she mused as she circulated the kitchen, fingering random fixtures as she walked. "Daddy doesn't know his precious little princess and the emo prince of teenage angst have been bumpin' uglies all night huh? It's okay sweetheart, your little fuckfest isn't the only secret in this house."

Violet was dumbstruck, her mouth hung open slightly.

"What?!" She exclaimed, "who the hell are you?" She quickly pushed herself up out of her seat to leave the kitchen and tell her dad that his creepy nutjob patient was here.

"Why don't you ask your dad," she teased, "or you could ask Casper, the not so friendly ghost." She pushed herself up to sit on the counter beside her.  
"No wonder he likes you, you're pretty, in a weird Wednesday Addams kinda way. Maybe we'll see our very own ghost wedding, we could get Beetlejuice to officiate huh?" She chucked to herself at her little joke, but mostly from seeing the little colour in Violet's face drain from her cheeks.

"What the hell are you talking about? Who are you, and what are you doing in here? How do you know Tate?" Hayden stared at her inquisitively, amused at her confusion.

"You mean you don't know?" Her voice was soft, feigning innocence, "surely you know about your boyfriend's...affliction?" She was having fun now, she stared at her silently, an evil smile creeping on to her face. 

"What? You're crazy, get the hell out."  
Violet turned to walk away, Hayden jumped down from the counter and rushed over to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her around to face her.  
"Get off of me you crazy bitch!" She screamed, growing increasingly afraid of this stranger who seemed to know her, to know Tate. Was she a jealous ex girlfriend who'd somehow found out about them? How did she get in? Her eyes searched the dark hallway outside the kitchen for Moira but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh honey, have you never heard of Google? Or are you too hipster to own a computer? Pick up a yearbook sweetie, I'm sure there's one from Westfield High lying around in that little cubby hole in the attic. One from the class of '94 in particular? It's not just fag porn your boy's been hiding in there."

Violet's heart was pounding, her brain desperately trying to claw for information, place fragments of a jigsaw together. Several flashbacks entered her head.

"The kids at the beach," she gasped, not realising she'd said it out loud, suddenly remembering the '1994' printed on the bloody jerseys of the jock and the cheerleader.

"By George, I think she's got it!" Hayden teased with a broad English accent, slipping out of the kitchen, laughing smugly to herself as she left.

Tears filled Violet's eyes as she rushed out of the kitchen and clambered up the stairs, locking herself in her bedroom. She switched on her laptop, impatiently drumming her nails against the wood of her desk, waiting for it to whir into life. Clicking on her google bookmark she began to type the words:

'Westfield High L.A, Class of 1994.'

What she saw made her stomach turn. Several headlines flashed up on the screen.

'Teens shot dead in high school massacre.'

'Bloodbath in school library.'

Tears streamed down her cheeks as the faces of the kids she'd seen at the beach on Halloween appeared; smiling faces, full of hope, nothing like the mutilated bloody figures that had harassed them that night. Then, she saw him, smiling that handsome angelic smile. Her heart pounded so hard she felt like her ears drums would burst from the sheer volume. Still, she continued to read one of the articles she'd clicked on.

'17 year old Tate Langdon was shot dead during a police showdown in his home after killing 15 of his classmates in the library of his high school, Westfield High, earlier that afternoon.'

It was Tate.

What the hell was happening? She couldn't breathe, her mind was racing, the blood rushed to her face. Her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest. It had to be some kind of joke, a spoof website that maybe a friend of his had made for a prank. She carried on reading, frantically scrolling down the page at articles all about the killer teen who'd gunned down his classmates in cold blood. Articles from well known national newspapers branding him everything from a poor tortured soul who was bullied so relentlessly that he saw no other option other than to kill his tormentors; to a good for nothing lowlife junkie. Suddenly, everything faded to black.

Violet opened her eyes and realised she wasn't in her room. She remembered what had happened earlier, what she had seen, and the fear crept over her again. She was too afraid to move, to sit up, she knew he was in there somewhere, knew he had brought her down here.

"So now you know," a deep voice echoed from across the room. Her breathing quickened as she slowly sat up, her eyes darting around the room.

"Tate?"

"I was gonna tell you, but I was...afraid." He stepped out into faint glow of light above his head, tears stained his cheeks, "I was afraid you wouldn't love me anymore."

She carefully swung her legs over the edge of the bed and went to stand up as he edged towards her.

"Who...Who are you? I saw all those articles. You ki-" he rushed over to her and took her in his arms, enveloping her in his embrace before she could finish the sentence, planting tiny kisses on her hair and face as she wept, then held her out in front of him by her shoulders.

"Violet you gotta listen to me," he urged, the desperation in his voice and in his eyes apparent.  
"Don't listen to what that bitch said, she doesn't know anything!" 

"But you...you killed them, I saw-" Her shoulders were heaving with sobs, she was so confused she didn't know what to think, she wasn't even sure whether or not she'd dreamed it, was she going crazy? He leant down and brought her face up to meet his, kissing her hard on the lips. Her knees weakened at his touch, her brain screaming at her to let go, to run far away from this house and never come back. She regained control of her senses and with all the strength she could muster pushed him away with a scream and turned to run up the stairs. Before she could get far enough Tate grabbed her from behind, forcefully covering her mouth with his hand to muffle her screams. He dragged back her to that deep dark part of the basement, the small room where he'd taken her before, a room that made her feel sick to her stomach now, and pushed her up against the wall.

"Violet...I'm gonna let go now," he said, his voice shaking, "but you have to promise me you're not gonna scream, and you're not gonna run away, okay?"

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, running over the hand still covering her mouth. She looked up into his eyes, silently pleading with him. She closed her eyes and nodded her head in obedience.

"Okay, good," he whispered as he took his hand away, she tried to control her deep choking breaths and looked up at him. "Violet...I would never, ever hurt you. I'd never let anything happen to you. You're always safe with me, you gotta know that!" 

She was quietly whimpering, rooted to the spot in fear, but partly out of curiosity at what he had to say. Her mind was racing, she stared at him with wide eyed confusion, her eyes glassy.

"But you're...Dead?!" 

The words sounded ridiculous as soon as they'd poured out of her mouth, her hands cupped her face as if she was trying to scoop up the words and put them back in. Tate caressed her cheek, kissing the stream of tears away tenderly.

He kissed her again, pulling her small body towards him, refusing to let her go. His kiss became urgent, aggressive. He forced his tongue into her mouth as she cried and groaned into him, her small fists thumping his chest. He grabbed her wrists with one hand and pinned them above her head, ignoring her muffled cries of protest. His other hand pulled at his fly and then at her skirt, pulling it up around her waist. 

"Sssh, Violet, calm down, please," he pleaded," "I love you so much you have to believe me."

Before she could scream again his mouth covered hers as he crushed her against the wall, reaching down to between her legs. She froze when he touched her there and looked deep into her eyes urgently, two liquid black pools absorbing her, draining her of the little fight she had left. Her legs shook as he took her thigh and pulled it up around him, placing his cock at her entrance. She inhaled a sharp breath and looked into his eyes.

"Tate, no," she wept, clenching her eyes shut, hoping this was all just a horrifying dream that she would soon wake up from.

"I love you," he said, and pushed himself into her. She yelped in a confusing and tormenting concoction of pain and pleasure as he slowly and deeply thrusted in and out of her. She was helpless against him, he was crazed, like he had been that day, the day he decided to shoot a bunch of innocent teenagers, like fish in a barrel.

"Tate please," she winced as he continued to pump in and out of her pussy, that familiar smell of sex filling the room. Her tight walls contracted around him, her body shaking, betraying her. 

He lifted her from the ground completely, his length never leaving her as he impaled her over and over, ignoring her pleas for mercy, grunting into her neck. Silent tears spilled onto her neck as he fucked her.

"I need you Violet, I need you. I'm sorry."

His rhythm quickened, that red hot ball of fire seared it's way through her ready to erupt. She couldn't hang on any longer. He growled against her and she screamed out in pained ecstasy as they came together. He slowly and shakily lowered her back down onto her feet, holding her hands gently. She let go and collapsed to the ground like a marionette who'd strings had been cut, sobbing in a devastated heap. He zipped up his fly and came to sit down beside her, folding her up in his arms as she cried. Soon after she jerked back to reality, and suddenly remembered what he'd said to her, what he'd taught her about the ghosts that lived in this house among them. What she could do when they scared her.

"Go away," she whispered, trembling in his arms. Tate looked down at her.

"Wh-what?" The gleam of tears filled his eyes as she pulled away from him.

"I said...Go. Away." Tate began to whimper and crawl over the floor back towards her.

"Violet no, no you don't mean that, you can't mean it." He wrapped himself around her leg as she stood up, staring down at him weeping at her feet, pleading with her not to make him leave.

"Go away Tate! She shouted for a third time, more assertive now, wondering if it would actually work, terrified that it wouldn't .

"Violet no, don't do this," he cried, "You're all I want!"

"GO AWAY!"

"YOU'RE ALL I HAVE!"

"GO AWAY!"

Her voice echoed in the small room and she realised she was alone. 

Tate had gone.


	3. Unlikely allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distraught, Tate seeks solace and plans his next move

Violet was curled up in the foetal position on top of her bed, her whole body heaving. She went over and over everything that had happened in her head. The news headlines scrolled through her mind, the images of those dead teenagers' faces, looking happy and hopeful. 

Then along came Tate to destroy everything they'd ever lived for, for the short time they'd lived, cursing them to wander the earth in Limbo forever.

Then her mind flashed back to what had happened just hours before. He was crazed, demented, she didn't want it but he did it anyway. What he did was...was...

"No," she gasped, fighting the thoughts and forcing them out. What if this wasn't happening? What if she had gone crazy? Maybe the house had made her this way just like it had done to Vivien, who was locked away in a psych ward, alone. She shed more tears for her now, for her poor mother that she'd betrayed, all to be with Tate. Surely that made her almost as bad as he was.

But then her mind raced to the most pivotal point of that evening; Tate was dead. He'd been dead for 17 years, almost longer than he'd lived, almost longer than she'd been alive. But was he? She desperately tried to justify it in her head, that she might just be crazy, that her twisted mind was making it all up. Jesus, she'd always been drawn to the darkness, but surely even the blackest depths of her subconscious couldn't think this up. 

Right now she actually welcomed the idea of being crazy, at least then Tate, her Tate, that sweet, mysterious, beautiful boy wouldn't be a killer, a psychopath. Better still he wouldn't be dead. She got up and went into the bathroom, turning on the tap to splash some cold water on her face.

"This isn't happening, this isn't happening," she whispered, dragging her fingers down her face, staring at the dark circles sagging under her eyes. 

She half expected him to appear before her again, she strangely would have welcomed that right now, as much as she couldn't bear to look at him, the thought of him, what he was capable of made her skin crawl, but she desperately wanted to fall into his arms and for it all to have been some horrible nightmare and to go back to normal; to block out everything in the world so it was just the two of them again. Of course now for that she'd need some kind of machine that could erase the last 4 hours from her memory, a machine that sadly didn't exist. She had to face it, Tate wasn't the boy she thought he was... 

He paced back and forth in his secret hiding place deep in the basement, mumbling obscenities to himself, slapping his forehead repeatedly with the flat of his palm. He'd lost her. He couldn't lose her, he couldn't.

"Oh God," a bodiless voice echoed throughout the room, "you're not still snivelling down here are you? Jesus H Christ grow a freakin' pair Romeo!" 

A figure emerged from the darkness into the weak lamplight, a large shadow creeping over the ceiling above him. Hayden stepped into the room slowly, her back sliding against the wall opposite him, an arrogant smirk across her face. Tate scowled, a deep anger erupted from him as he shot up and rushed over to her, grabbing her by the neck, spinning her around and slamming her against the wall, the very same wall he'd taken Violet against just a few hours ago.

"You stupid bitch," he spat, his eyes huge and sparkling with rage, tears trickling down his cheeks, "this is all your fault, you did this!" Goblets of spit sprayed her face, causing a mocking expression of disgust to form in place of the smile that had been there before. She wiped her face in an exaggerated fashion and let out a snort.

"Oh please," she retorted, "I didn't shoot those little high school brats sweetheart, that was all on you. Although I do like this rough side of you, it's hot. I was watching the two of you down here earlier, although I'm not convinced she enjoyed it as much as you did..." 

His eyes widened as her hands slid down between his legs; he recoiled in disgust and pulled her head away from the wall to smash it against it again, growling in frustration.

"SHUP UP!" he screamed, his grip on her throat tightening.

"Poor thing's been up there crying for hours," she pouted, "and who said romance is dead huh? She laughed loudly at him as he held her against the wall, white hot rage building up inside him.

"Don't you talk about her!" He seethed, his anger rising even higher.  
"Right now I wish you weren't dead so I could kill you myself," he fumed, his nose almost touching hers, his face a bright red, breathing heavily through his flared nostrils as he glared into her eyes.

"Yeah, well unlucky for you honey someone else got to me first," she snorted, "I must be the only sadcase that isn't stuck here because of you." He raised his fist, his arm twitching with madness. She stifled a giggle.

"What're you gonna do Tate?" She was goading him on, amused at his turmoil. "You wanna hit me? Go on, do it, I want you to," her hand once again wandered downward.

He roughly released her from his grasp and went to sit on the bed, dropping his head into his hands, fresh sobs erupting from his body. She threw her head back, rolling her eyes as she went to sit beside him, giving him a friendly yet insincere pat on the shoulder.

"There, there," she said sarcastically, letting out an exasperated sigh, "you'll get her back, give her a hundred years or so and she'll forget all about it. She can't hold a grudge forever right?" He glanced over at her, sniffing loudly. He nodded, his eyes stared up at the ceiling to fight back the tears, racking his brain for an idea. He needed to get Violet back.

"I've gotta do something," he said, a determined tone to his voice as if he'd just had some kind of revelation.  
"I've gotta get her back."

"And you will," Hayden said matter-of-factly, "you just need to get her back on side. Sure she's mad at you now, she probably hates you. Like, really hates you." Tate flinched at her words, the thought of Violet hating him was unbearable. He felt sick. He averted his gaze to the ground, his face a picture of pain as if someone was stabbing him repeatedly in the heart.

"What you've gotta do is isolate her from everyone else, make her believe that it's the who's out to get her, not you. She'll come running into your arms and you'll be her hero again." As aware as he was that she was mostly just mocking him, she was right. It was perfect. In fact it was true, it was everyone else that was out to ruin their relationship, to keep them apart. He only wanted her to be happy, for them to be together, what was so bad about that? He looked up at her, squinting through his wet lashes, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"And how do I do that?" Fresh tears ran down his perfectly chiselled jaw as he looked at her, like how a son would look at his mother when seeking comfort. Her womb skipped a beat as she thought of her unborn child, the little life that once grew inside her that didn't even get a chance. All because of them. All because of Ben and his perfect little wifey. How she dreamed of being the one to kill her; to smash her perfect face repeatedly onto her perfect marble kitchen counters and watch her perfect life shatter into a million pieces into nothing. Only then would Vivien have just an inkling of how she felt, how she'd been made to feel, because of her. 

"I think you know," she replied coldly. He stared ahead into the darkness of the basement and it dawned on him what it was that he had to do. He'd do anything to get his Violet back.

A smile formed over her face as she climbed on top of him and wrapped her legs around him, her hands gripping his hair in knots in her fingers.

"What are you doing?" He sighed, a bored tone to his voice.

"Well I don't see why I shouldn't get any fun out of the situation," she chimed, lowering her eyes, "wanna fool around?" Her hips slowly began to grind against his groin. He rolled his eyes and looked to the side, avoiding hers.

"I'm not into it," he replied, placing his hands firmly by his sides so as not to touch her. She tutted and lowered her head to lightly lick his neck with the tip of her tongue.

"Oh come on," she purred, "not every fuck has to result in marriage and lifelong commitment you know. I don't know what it is about being dead that makes me so horny." Her tongue ran along his neck and up to his earlobe where she bit down. He grabbed her by the arms in a feeble attempt to push her off.

"Get off me Hayden!" He warned. 

She was relentless, still grinding her hips against him, looking down at him when she realised he was hard. Her mouth formed an 'O' shape and she held a hand up to her mouth as she gasped.

"Mr Langdon!" She teased, "I do believe your little friend down there disagrees with you, shall we ask him?" She set her feet on the floor, lowering herself onto her knees in front of him, parting his legs as he frowned at her. She expertly unbuttoned his fly and reached into his jeans.

"Hayden, stop it," he breathed, desperately trying to keep his mind off of this stranger with her head between his legs. Some hopeless bunny boiler that didn't seem to feel anything other than hate and revelled in emotionally torturing people. She was desperate to hurt Ben and Vivien, it killed her that he didn't want her, or their baby. They both hated Ben, so they had that in common, he supposed, maybe they could work together somehow, even if he did hate her, she could help him.

"Sshh," she whispered, pulling out his impressive cock as he clenched his eyes tightly, "my my what do we have here?" Her tongue flickered out to lightly touch his tip, circling it in long smooth motions, running down the length softly with her lips. Tate exhaled, he knew he didn't want her, but he needed release, something to take his anger out on, and she'd have to do. She took him into her mouth, moaning hungrily, the vibrations humming through his body. He grabbed her by the hair, holding her in place as she feasted on him, licking and sucking on him like a popsicle, he could feel his legs knocking against her shoulders. Thrusting his hips up and down, he slowly fucked her mouth as she groaned into him, struggling to take his entire length. He smiled as he heard her gag, his thrusts quickening. Just as he was about to lose himself she pulled her head away and looked up at him.

"Jesus Tate I'm not a fucking fleshlight!" She cried. He stood up and yanked her arm, dragging her up off the floor to meet him. She went to wipe her mouth as he gripped her wrist and flung her across the room, sending her crashing into a heap of boxes in the corner. She giggled as she walked back over to him, giving him an almighty whack across his face.

"So you wanna play rough huh?" She grinned, "I can do rough..."

He pulled her towards him by her sweater, bruising her lips with his, his tongue darting around hers. She pulled away and shoved him violently against the wall, biting down hard on his bottom lip making him yell out in pain, droplets blood of blood forming around his mouth. He slapped her hard across the face, throwing her down on the ground. She turned over and wriggled out of her pants, staring up at him with a look of pure hatred, yet wanting more. He pulled off his t-shirt and swiftly took off his jeans and boxers and strode towards her, getting down on his hands and knees in front of her. He clawed at her sweater, she moaned loudly as he tore the material from her, throwing it behind him, dragging her across the floor. She winced in delicious pleasure as the cold floor took the skin from her back. He lowered himself between her legs and pulled her panties off with his teeth, growling as he quickly moved up her body, biting her thighs and stomach, once again meeting face to face.

"Come on Tate," she sighed breathlessly, "fuck me like I'm Violet."

The very mention of her name turned him into a wild man, he slammed her wrists on the ground above her head and slammed himself into her pussy. She screamed in ecstasy as he pounded her into the ground, his thrusts hard and deep. She suddenly pushed him off of her and sat up, climbed on top of him and wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, throwing her head back as he fucked her like an animal, grunting and groaning with every stroke. 

She felt different to Violet, unwelcome. Everything about Violet was soft, warm and light. Hayden felt lifeless and cold, he didn't feel right being inside of her. It felt wrong, and until now he'd never felt more aware of how dead he really was. His hands clenched around her neck, slowly tightening, still slamming hard into her while she moaned loudly at the ceiling, her nails clinging on to his back. Her eyes darted up at him, widening in shock as he clamped his hands around her neck, pushing on her windpipe. A mixture of pleasure and pain seeped through her, she smirked and brought her hands round to his chest, digging her nails into him and dragging them down his torso, tearing the skin. Blood poured from him as he howled in pain, his rhythm never slowing.

He could feel himself ready to burst as the blood poured out of him, drowning her stomach and chest. She rubbed her bloody hands over her breasts, inserting a finger into her mouth, hooking another into his. He tasted his blood, the thick cloying smell spurring him on. His thrusts grew faster, harder. He pictured fucking Violet like this and was about to come harder than he'd ever come before. 

"Fuck me Tate," she hissed, "make me feel something!" 

His seed exploded into her as he came, tears running down his face as he pulled out of her slowly. She laid beneath him, panting heavily, an exhilarated smile on her face as she caught her breath. He clambered up off the floor and dressed silently. She slid up after him, dressing quickly, smiling cruelly at him as the shame burned on his face. She walked across the room and into the doorway. 

"You know what you have to do." And she left, leaving him alone again.


	4. Something wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tate employs another helper to aid his plan, and Violet meets the Rubber Man

Violet stepped nervously into the kitchen, scanning the room, terrified she’d run into Tate somewhere. Instead it was just Moira, the sad little maid cleaning the sink, a scent of lemon filled her nostrils.

“Hi,” she said nervously, pulling up a stool to sit down. Moira turned around and gave a faint smile.

“Oh, hello dear. Would you like something to eat? I made a casserole, I can heat some up for you? Or, or some coffee? It’s freshly brewed.” She fussed around fingering the cabinets, fetching a gleaming white mug and filling it with hot black liquid. Violet smiled and nodded her head in thanks as she sipped gingerly.

“Have you seen my dad?” She asked curiously, Moira seemed to ignore her. After a long pause she hummed to herself, looking lost in thought.

“No dear, no I haven’t. Is something wrong? You look so pale. You need to eat something.” She then busied herself taking a plate out of another cabinet, spooning large piles of chicken and gravy on to it then placing it in the microwave.  
“I know your mother doesn’t agree with these modern contraptions but they make looking after a family so much easier.” Violet watched the plate slowly twirling around inside the little oven, lost in her own thoughts as it went round, and round.  
“Is there something wrong, dear?” She leant up against the counter, strong lines forming on her forehead.

“Uhh, no. Well, yeah. Sort of. It’s hard to explain,” she muttered as she lowered her head. “You’ve worked in this house a long time right? Have you ever noticed anything…odd?”

“Odd?” Moira scoffed, pulling out a stool of her own to sit beside her. “It’s more than just odd dear. This house has powers dear, it does things to people, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. It brings out things in people that should never be brought out. Some might even say it's maddening.”

Violet carried on sipping at her coffee as it cooled, it really was good. She’d never paid much attention to Moira, there was something about her that had always kind of creeped her out, especially that ghostly eye that seemed to follow you wherever you went. But there was wisdom in her, and she knew the house better than anybody, better than Tate she’d bet. 

She jolted back to life as the microwave beeped loudly, Moira got down from her stool and walked around the bar, taking an oven mitt to pull out the plate of hot food and set it down in front of Violet. As good as it smelt, as good as it looked, food was the last thing on her mind.

“Thanks,” she smiled, her stomach flipping while poking at the food with her fork. She then realised how tired she felt, her eyelids fluttering as she lost focus, her vision becoming blurred. Moira plucked her handbag from the counter and turned to leave the room. She paused and turned back, clutching her bag to her chest.

“Don’t be so hard on the boy, dear,” she pleaded meekly, “he’s had such a hard life for a boy so young, what with his mother and all. He’s troubled, but there’s light in him still. I believe you are the only one who can truly see it, and maybe you can bring it out of him for good.” Tears filled her eyes as she turned out of the kitchen. Tate stood on the other side of the door as she passed him and stopped to put her hand on his shoulder.

“I drugged the coffee,” she whispered, gently patting him, “The rest is up to you dear," and she disappeared. She didn't agree with what Tate had asked her to do, but her heart broke for him every time she looked upon that face. She truly believed that Violet would be his saviour, his saving grace after having been alone for so long. He spied from the doorway as Violet became weaker. She pushed the plate away from her as she laid her head down on the counter, her breathing becoming gentle and slow. "Moira...wait," she groaned weakly. She was finally unconscious.

When she woke up it was dark outside, how long had she been asleep? She nervously got up out of the stool and felt around the walls for the light switch. As she flicked it on nothing happened, she was still in darkness. She became worried, flicking the switch up and down over and over. She patted the walls to find her way out of the kitchen and tried the light in the hallway. Again, nothing. It couldn’t be a power cut, she could see the faint glow of light from the house opposite through the frosty glass on the front door. What was going on?

She felt in her pocket for her phone, it wasn’t there. She was sure she’d put it in there earlier. She heard a thump and jumped, startled.

“Hello?” She called out, slowly walking through the hallway towards a light she could see at the end of the corridor. “Dad, are you home?” She carried on towards the light where she thought she could hear voices becoming clearer.  
“Dad?” She called out again, edging towards his office where the voices grew louder. She turned the corner towards his door, light peering through the crack. She meekly pushed it open and froze in horror. Ben was home, but he had company.

He was naked on his couch, his bare ass moving up and down as he moaned, fucking a faceless woman. She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to look away. Then she saw who it was writhing underneath him.

“MOIRA?! Dad what the hell?!”

He didn't hear her, he carried on fucking the old woman, who groaned beneath him. She clamped her eyes shut, counted to ten and opened them again. Ben was no longer there, neither was Moira. The room was empty.

“What the hell is going on?!” She cried, tears spilling from her eyes down her cheeks. She backed out of the room into a dark figure stood behind her. She still felt woozy, a thick haze formed in front of her eyes as hands slid around her waist from behind. She couldn’t move, her legs gave way underneath her as the figure scooped her up off her feet.

He laid her down on the small bed in the basement and stood over her. A few minutes later she lazily opened her eyes, unable to function. She saw a shiny black mask with dark eyes peering through the slit stood by the bed, watching her.

"Wh-what? Who are you?!" She was screaming at herself inside, screaming at herself to get out of there. The Rubber Man her Mom had been so terrified of was real, and he was here holding her captive in the basement. Her body wasn’t agreeing with her, she felt like she’d been weighed down with lead, an invisible force pinning her to the bed.

“Dad,” she whimpered, “Help-“

The dark figure climbed on top of her, straddling her as she lay motionless. She heard another voice in the room, a woman groaning. A hot white light shot through the room, flashing like a strobe. Flickers of naked bodies humping, thrusting together appeared in front of her. It was her father, his body entwined with Moira’s, oblivious to his daughter lying helpless before him as he fucked the old maid. Only she wasn’t old, this woman looked like she could’ve been Moira’s daughter or Granddaughter or something. Another figure joined them. It was her, that woman who’d confronted her in the kitchen, the woman who’d exposed Tate’s secrets. Who was she?!

The Rubber man was stroking her face, running his hands over her body as she wriggled under his weight. She could feel her pussy throbbing.

“What the hell is wrong with me?!” She screamed internally. She reached deep inside herself to clutch at any energy she had, and with a loud blood curdling scream she rose up off the bed, running past her father, still entangled in these strange women, and clumsily ran up the stairs. It felt as if she had a thousand legs, all trying to get in front of the other. She looked back and saw the Rubber Man slowly ascending, her fear making her even more determined to run.

She reached the top of the stairs and burst through the cellar door, flinging open the front door and burst out, her legs flailing, struggling to keep up with her upper body. It felt like she’d been running forever, she was wheezing, her heart was beating loudly in her chest, she felt she might pass out. She stopped, clinging on to the wall, taking in gulps of air. She then realised that she wasn't outside at all, but back in the house. She looked around confused, sobbing hysterically. She ran back out of the front door and up to the gates that were sealed shut with a thick padlock.

“Help me!” She screamed, rattling the gates. A woman walking her dog passed by the house, not even turning in Violet’s direction, as if she couldn’t hear or see her.  
“Hey, you! Please! Help me please!” She begged. She hopelessly turned to find another way out, and she was back in the house yet again.

“What the fuck is happening?!” She cried desperately, turning around, frantically plotting her next escape route. She screamed at the sight of the Rubber Man walking towards her. He’d found her.

“WHO ARE YOU?!” She screamed, “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” She spun away from him and sprinted through the halls, seeing other shadowy figures wandering through the house like zombies, unaware of their surroundings. She gagged as the smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils. A woman, hideously disfigured with flaming embers flaking off of her skin stared at her. 

“GO AWAY! GO AWAY!” It didn’t work this time, they were still there.  
Violet was hysterical, screaming and running through the house. Every time she ran out of the front door she somehow ended up back inside. A memory of something Constance had once said, something about the souls of those who had died in this house, that they were bound to it and could never leave. They were trapped inside forever. 

But she wasn't...That was too crazy.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the loud cackling echoing loudly through the house, vibrating through her entire body as she clamped her hands over her ears and ran back the other way. She turned ahead and crashed into the body that was suddenly stood in front of her.

“Tate,” she gasped, somewhat relieved. She crumpled into his arms as he held her, the booming laughter fading away. Her tears soaked his sweater as he calmed her and stroked her hair, kissing her on the head.

“Violet are you alright?” He asked calmly, “What’s wrong, why are you crying?" She was inconsolable, heaving in his arms. He pulled her away from him and held her in place by her shoulders, taking one hand to softly push tear stained strands of hair off of her face.

“Tate please help me,” she rambled through thick sobs, “I don’t know what’s going on please Tate you’ve gotta help me. My dad was having sex with the maid and another woman, a-and they were naked, and and and the rubber man, he was down in the basement and-”

“Woah woah woah, ssshh,” he whispered, comforting her once more, holding her to him again. "Vi calm down, it’s okay, I’m here. You're safe now.” 

“What’s happening to me Tate, I think I’m losing it.”

She looked up at him and pulled his head down to meet hers, closing her eyes tightly and pushing her lips against his. His lips parted hers, kissing her eagerly. He pulled away and looked down at her, gently caressing her cheek.

“Everything’s gonna be okay Vi,” he said softly, reassuringly, “I’ll explain everything.”

“I-I need you Tate,” she breathed, “I need you to stay.”

He pulled her gently towards him and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her slowly and deeply, his fingers running through her hair. He scooped her up into his arms and he carried her up the stairs, her head burrowed into his neck. He took her into her room and set her down on the bed as she laid out before him. He took off his shirt and got on the bed, slithering up on top of her. His hands cupped her small pert breasts, shakily unbuttoning her shirt as she panted, her hands stroking his bare chest. He hungrily kissed her mouth, his tongue snaking around rhythmically with hers, soft moans escaping her throat.

“I want you Tate,” she whimpered, “I want you now, please.”

He smiled down at her, his heart soaring. She was his again. He slid down her body, planting soft kisses down her stomach as she convulsed under him.  
“Tate, please.”

“Not yet baby,” he whispered, unbuttoning her pants and slowly pulled them down over her legs, taking in the scent of her damp sex. He tossed her pants on the floor and took her ankles in his hands, effortlessly throwing them over his shoulders as he pulled her down the bed. He licked the crotch of her panties, a loud moan stirring from her as she gazed down at him, her eyes glassy with arousal. He continued to lick the lace fabric and moved it aside with his tongue, exposing her wet pussy to him.

“You taste good,” he purred as he pierced her hole with his tongue, lapping up her juices like a starving man enjoying his last meal. Violet cried out as he gorged on her. He poked a finger inside her, thumbing her clit as he licked her soft folds, his tongue circling her clit in time with his thumb. She whimpered and moaned, her hands tangled in his curls.

“You had enough yet?” He teased, grinning up at her, “You want more?”

“Please Tate,” she groaned. He shuffled up the bed, Violet’s legs still wrapped around his neck.

“You told me to go away Violet," he said sternly as he slowly rubbed his hard cock up and down her slit, a serious look forming on his face. "I couldn't handle it. Being away from you, I-I just- I need you to promise me that you'll never do that to me again. I'm the only one that can keep you safe Vi, safe from the others." His cock still slowly moved up and down, lightly touching her, driving her crazy. "They want to hurt you, and I need to be with you to make sure that nothing bad ever happens to you. promise me that you'll never tell me to go away again, do you promise?” He leant down to kiss her breasts and pursed his lips to lightly tug on a nipple, driving her wild. 

“Yes,” she purred.

He positioned himself at her entrance and lazily slotted himself into her. She let out a deep sigh as he thrust in and out of her, pushing in deeply, and slowly pulling out, teasing her warm wet cunt. 

“Harder,” she breathed demandingly, he laughed happily and looked down at her. His Violet.

“You want me to fuck you harder? You gotta tell me,” his cock moving slowly in and out of her throbbing hole. So slow it was almost painful.

“Fuck. Me…Harder.”

Those three words sent him into overdrive. He manically started pumping in and out of her, grinding her down into the mattress. He groaned into her neck as he fucked her hard and fast. She yelled out as he sat back, taking her hands in his and pulling her up, swinging his feet around to the edge on the bed and planting them on the floor sitting Violet on his lap. He steadied her and impaled her with his rock hard dick once again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and threw her head back, losing herself in him, their bodies shining with sweat and moving together. No one could make him feel the way she did.

“I knew you’d come back to me.”

She moaned as she bounced on top of him, her breasts jiggling up and down. He covered one with his hand and roughly grabbed at it, digging his fingers into the soft supple flesh. She bit down on her bottom lip to stifle a scream as her insides inflamed.

“Tate I’m…I’m”

“That’s it, come with me baby, come with me,” he kissed her again, her lips struggling to meet his as she gyrated on top of him, exhausted and dizzy. He pulled her down over his cock again and again, burying himself as deep as he could inside her as he came. Fireworks erupted from inside her, her body trembling on top of him. He held her to his bare chest, his softening length still inside as they held each other, breathless.

He looked over at the doorway to see Hayden and Moira, once again in her frail old form. She gave a silent nod and turned away, Hayden quietly following behind her.


	5. Drowning

Violet and Tate laid silently together, his head buried in her hair, never tiring of her scent. She stared out across the room into the dark, mentally fighting the urge to speak, to exorcise the thoughts racing through her head. Her lips were twitching, dying to explode with a million questions, but she didn't know where to start. She inhaled deeply and sat up slowly to sit at the edge of the bed as Tate's eyes followed.

"Okay," she breathed, "I don't even know where to start with this." Her voice was trembling as the contented smile drained from his face. He let out a large sigh and sat up behind her. His face looked pained, as if he'd swallowed something sharp and it was stuck in his chest, refusing to go down.

"I wanted to tell you," he said, his hands fumbling with the corner of the blanket, "I did, but, but it wasn't exactly easy you know?"

Violet eyed him suspiciously, her heart flipped a little as he squirmed, his brain trying to come up with something to say.

"I don't know Tate, but you shoulda told me, should've said something."

"Oh, yeah," he replied sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. "Hi, I'm Tate, I'm dead. Wanna hook up? I don't think so."

A childish smirk spread across his face as he looked up at her. She stifled a giggle but it escaped from her throat and she laughed, a genuine heartfelt laugh that made Tate smile. It had been a while since her heard her laugh like that. Her face then returned back to its serious state and she ran her hands through her hair, her fingers clutching her scalp.

"Tate am I crazy?" She asked, "Like, seriously am I losing my mind? All the shit that's happened lately I don't, I don't understand." He came to sit behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, gently pulling her back towards him as he wrapped his arms around her neck, spreading his legs so they slid down the bed and Violet was sat between them.

"No Vi," he soothed, his chin resting on her shoulder from behind, "you're not crazy, it's everyone else that's crazy."

"So...those kids," she hesitated as the words flew out of her mouth, Tate clenched his eyes shut and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Aw come on Vi," he pleaded, "do we have to do this?"

She removed his arms from around her and stood up, turning to face him.

"Yeah Tate. We do...Wh-what happened that day? Why'd you do it?"

He looked up at her and covered his face with his hands, dragging his fingers down his cheeks and past his lips.

"I don't remember, and that's the truth." His eyes were lowered to the floor, his hands rubbing his knees repeatedly, gently rocking back and forth. His eyes darted up to her, she was listening intently.  
"I don't know why I did it, I, I wish I could take it back, I do. I don't even remember doing it. I don't know why." He stood up, taking her hands in his, bringing them up to kiss each one. 

"You must remember something," she said softly, "were they bullying you? They must have done something-"

"I don't know Violet!" He exclaimed, standing up, growing increasingly frustrated as he threw her wrists away from him to start pacing the room, running his hands through his shabby heap of blonde curls. 

Violet's eyes widened, fearful. She was ashamed that she felt guilty for him. For a mass murderer who'd shot dead 15 kids for no known reason. She couldn't help but feel for him though, his frustration at not being able to remember this terrible thing he did, and to have it hanging over his head forever.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, conflicted about whether or not to comfort him, "let's not talk about it anymore." She went to sit back down on the bed as he joined her, his arm resting behind her back.

"I know," he said softly, taking a strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, "the past few weeks have been rough. Especially with your dad-" the words stopped suddenly and Violet's head snapped to the side to look at him.

"What? What about my dad?"

His eyes darted away, avoiding her gaze, she took his chin in her hand and turned his face to look at her.  
"What did he do Tate?" He pursed his lips, letting out a long breath from his nose.

"Well, yesterday, I heard him talking on the phone with a boarding school, asking about financial packages." She looked away from him, tears filling her eyes, "he wants to send you away. He wants to take you away from me Vi."

At that moment her heart felt like it had stopped beating. She turned away from him, her eyes filling with tears.

"Makes sense," she choked, "he sent Mom away, I don't know why I thought I was safe, I just assumed I was his little girl. What a fantasy. I'm so stupid and naive sometimes." Tate put his arm around her and drew her closer, placing his head on top of hers as silent tears fell down her cheek, "Of course he's gonna send me away too." He lowered his head to look into her eyes.

"There's nothing stupid about you," he whispered reassuringly, "I won't let him send you away." He took his arm away and got up off the bed, turning towards the door, Violet held out her hand and grabbed his hand.

"Where are you going?"

"I have an idea," he said determinedly, turning back round to place his hands on either side of her face, kissing her lips lightly.  
"Stay here, I'll be back." He fled the room without a word.

"Tate! Wha-?" She headed towards the door to follow him until a figure blocked her way. 

"Hello dear."

Moira was stood in the doorway, stopping her from getting out. Violet then remembered what had happened earlier, blurred visions of her dad, naked with his hands all over her, and what had looked like the younger version taking her place. Her face twisted in disgust as she stepped to the side to get out.

"You?" She hissed, "get out of the way!" She stepped back, Moira never moving, her eyes following her as she darted from side to side to get out.

"My dear," she said softly, "whatever's the matter? Is something troubling you?" She held out her hand to touch her arm as Violet flinched away.

"Yeah. You! I saw what you did, what you were doing with my dad! You're sick, you're both sick! Now get out...Of the way!" 

Moira stepped aside to let her past, Violet rushed past her out into the hall, searching around to figure out where it was Tate had gone.

"In this house,' Moira said meekly, Violet turning her head back to look at her, "not everything is as it seems. There are so many secrets here Violet." She turned her back on her and slowly walked down the hallway, "but I suppose you'll find out soon enough."  
And then she was gone.

She backed into her room, trying to work out what it was the strange old woman meant. Tate reappeared and bounded back into the room, clutching something in his hand she couldn't see, his eyes alight with excitement.

"Where'd you go?" She asked, nervous and curious, watching as he paced the room breathlessly.  
"What's going on? Where'd you go?" She tried to reach behind him to see what he had in his hand but he sharply backed away before she could.

He didn't answer her at first, still pacing, a sharp frown fixed onto his face.  
"Tate?!"

He then rushed over to her, his hands gripping her waist tightly.

"I have an idea, but, but-but you have to hear me out first. It's gonna sound totally fucked up, but it'll soon make sense Violet, you'll see. You promise you'll hear me out?" His arms were now wrapped tighter around her waist, his eyes locked on hers. She was worried, what was he planning? She nodded silently and swallowed a large gulp of air.

"I promise," she said, the words barely escaping her throat. He took the small bottle from his pocket and shook them, watching her as a confused expression formed over her face.

"What are those?" She asked, eyeing the small bottle in his hand.

"What if, what if, you took these, and, and then you could stay here. Forever. Your dad couldn't send you away and we could be together all the time. We could play with Beauregard, listen to music, play scrabble. Then no one could make you leave!"

She stared at him, stunned, her eyes fixated on the bottle of pills in his hand. 

"You, you want me to commit suicide?" She gasped, horrified, tears filling her eyes to the brim, spilling over to run down her face. He nodded, taking a finger to wipe the tears.

"It would be perfect Vi, just you and me," he pleaded, "and no one could take you away from me. Ever." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, her arms hung by her sides, numbed by the idea of what he had just asked her her to do. She was silent for a long while, then looked up at him and nodded.

"Y-yeah," she breathed, her eyes flickering, "I can do it. I could do that, right?" An exhilarated smile spread across Tate's face as he took her in his arms, kissing every inch of her face.

"Violet, I love you so much," he said, kissing her hard on the lips, "it'll be great. You and me, together for always." He kissed her hair as her heart raced, her breaths became shallow. He looked down into her eyes, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.  
"We haven't got much time Vi, if we're gonna do this we've gotta go now. I know how to do it so it doesn't hurt." His words were urgent, demanding. She looked up at him and nodded.

"Okay, okay," she panted, "but can we do it in the bathtub?"

"What? Why?" He cried, running his hands through his hair, grabbing at handfuls in frustration.

"I don't know," she panicked, "it, it's nice, it's warm, I, I can light some candles?" She pleaded. Tate sighed and stroked her hair gently.

"Alright," he sighed, "but now, okay?"

"Okay. I'll go run the bath, wait here." She hurried out of the bedroom as Tate looked on, he almost felt as if he could feel his heart beating for the first time in 17 years. This was it, now nothing could tear him and Violet apart. Nothing could take her away from him now. He was suddenly roused back to reality by screams coming from down in the hall. 

Violet's screams.

"Help!" She screamed, running down the stairs, "he wants to kill me! Please someone help me!"

"Violet, no!" Tate yelled, speeding out of the room and down the stairs to follow her.

She ran out of the front door and through the now open gate, dizzy as she found herself back in the kitchen. She yelped, dazed as she headed out towards the front door again to run through the gate once more, and again ending up in the kitchen. 

It was happening again. 

"What's happening," she sobbed, breathless, "what the hell's going on?" She screamed as Tate rushed to appear in front of her, she clambered past him and back out of the front door, her legs becoming weak underneath her. 

Again she was taken back to the kitchen. 

"No, no, not again, this isn't happening," she wailed. Tate was still stood in the same spot he'd been in before, watching her futile attempts to escape. She darted around the bar as he jumped from side to side, calculating her next move to try and stop her in her tracks.

"Violet! Stop running!"

She ran down the long corridor to find that yet again she was back in the kitchen, Tate stood in the same spot, a pained look spread across his face.

"Please Tate, please, I don't wanna die," she cried, as he slowly walked towards her. A solemn look on his face.

"It's too late for that."

"What?" She hissed, "what do you mean?" She said, clinging onto the worktop. She let go and slumped to the floor crying hysterically, her hands clutching her head as she desperately tried to work out what the hell was going on. From the veil of hair covering her face she could see Tate's sneakers stood in front of her. She looked up at him, exhausted and confused.

"What's happening, Tate? Why am I running around like a crazy person?" She looked up at him like a lost child, her face soaked with tears, "did you drug me?" He crouched down in front of her, his hands on his knees.

"Violet. I have to show you something."


	6. Waking the dead

He took her by the hand and helped her up, steadying her as her legs shook, leading her towards the basement and down the stairs. He took her towards a dark end of the house, a part she'd never visited before, how big was this place exactly? Just as Moira had said, this house had so many secrets.

He stopped at a small wooden door and opened it with a loud creak, a cloud of dust seeping through the widening crack.

"Tate, where are you taking me?" She asked, growing more and more afraid. He looked back at her and silently ushered her inside.

"You'll see," he replied calmly, "come on." And he led her into the dark void through the door

They crept along the filthy cobwebbed floor, Violet recoiling at the sight of a dead rat, half of which had become skeletal, the other half was being feasted upon by maggots and flies. She gagged at the sight, and the putrid smell flowing up her nostrils, clinging to her lungs. She held her breath until they came to an end, and Tate jumped down a high step, helping Violet after him. 

"Alright," he panted, "remember, it's gonna be okay. I promise. I love you."

He kissed her on the cheek and guided her to stand in front of him, slowly gesturing downward with his head. His hand slipped through hers and held it firmly. She stared at him for a second, afraid of what she was going to see. After a deep breath she peered down and suddenly felt as if all the breath had left her body entirely.

A loud scream burst from her throat at the sight of a decomposing body curled into a fetal position at their feet, near enough 50 flies pouring out of its twisted open mouth, its eyeballs white and rolled into the back of its skull.

Tate pulled her to him and quickly turned her head into his chest, holding her tightly as wild hysterical howls erupted from her, her entire body shaking in his arms. She clawed at his t-shirt and yanked her head away to look back down at it, she stared at it in horror and disbelief. 

"No!" She cried, "it can't be, wh-what?!" She was unable to look away, a wave of nausea rising up inside her as she stared down at her own corpse that had been left alone in a dark crawl space to rot. Tate reached out to her, struggling to get the words out.

"I tried to save you. I did." He said, tears dropping from his eyes. A hazy memory appeared in her mind, of her and Tate in the bathtub, sat under freezing running water as she lost consciousness, Tate screaming and rocking her, sticking his fingers down her throat. Trying to save her life. 

"I died when I took all those pills," she gasped, her nails digging into her head, her knees knocking together. He nodded.

"You, you took so many Violet," he sobbed, "it was too late."

She continued to stare at the lifeless body, her dead body. Her cries became silent whimpers as he took her once again in his arms.

"You died crying," he said sadly, "I held you. You were safe. You died...Loved."

"This isn't happening," she whispered as she paced the small space, Tate mirroring her every step.

"I didn't want you to find out this way Violet," he said, "I had this idea that, that if you chose to die, to be with me, you wouldn't be so sad." He kissed her on the cheek, then softly on the lips.  
"I didn't wanna force you, and I didn't wanna kill you, I wanted you to decide on your own. I wanted you to choose to stay with me. D'you know why? It's because I care more about your feelings than mine. I love you Violet. Everything's gonna be okay."

She stood dumbfounded, unable to move. She felt as if she were made of ice. A statue, or a rotten tree rooted to the ground. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be real. Tate's eyes searched hers, pleading for her to say something."

"But...I don't feel anything," she said, still in disbelief, " I don't remember dying."


	7. Dead.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet tries reaching out to Ben while Tate looks on

Ben sat alone in his office. He wondered if Violet would ever leave her room. At times he thought she might even be dead seeing as he never heard her moving, it was as if there was no sign of life up there at all. He stared at a cobweb that was fluttering in the far corner of the room above a large bookshelf until it began to irritate him. 

“Moira, you are a shitty maid,” he mumbled as he pushed himself up off of the plush leather chair and headed upstairs towards Violet’s room. As he approached he thought he could hear another voice as well as the faint hum of music coming from inside; the memory of the strange and disturbing hallucination he’d had just a few nights before, Tate pile-driving his only daughter hard against her bedroom window whilst he watched, Tate’s devilish grin as he looked down at him suddenly entered his mind. He violently shook his head as if to physically remove it before knocking loudly on the door.  
“Violet? Honey, are you in there? Can we talk for a minute?”

“Tate,” Violet whispered, “go hide, my dad can’t see you in here!” She panicked as she shoved a naked Tate out of her bed, throwing his clothes at him as he chuckled and quietly pulled on the pair of jeans that had landed on his head.

“You really haven’t quite got the hang of this whole being dead thing yet have you,” he sniggered at her with that boyish side grin of his. Her heart fluttered, not just for him, but at the reminder that she was in fact dead, somehow she’d forgotten. She pulled her dress over her head, smoothing down her hair as she sat up and attempted to look calm. This was the first time she’d seen her father since she’d found her own dead body in the crawl space under the house. It almost felt as if she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but of course that wasn’t possible, for her heart had stopped beating a long time ago.

“Yeah, Dad, c-come in.” A second later the door squeaked and slowly opened as Ben stood in the doorway, a faint smile painted across his face. She smiled weakly back at him, not knowing quite how to act around him anymore. He came to sit on the desk chair next to the bed, placing his hands on his knees as if he was about to start a session with one of his patients, and let out a deep sigh. 

“So, Vi,” he said, clasping his hands together nervously, “what’s up?”

Tate was sat cross-legged behind her on the bed, his arms snaked protectively around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder, his breath on her neck made her entire body shudder. How could he still make her feel the way he did even after she was dead?  
“Don’t tell him Vi,” Tate whispered in her ear, taking a long strand of hair between his fingers, “not yet.” She closed her eyes and placed her hands beside her on the bed to steady herself, her breaths became shallow and quick. Ben raised an eyebrow at her, he knew she was hiding something, she was acting paranoid, not her usual cavalier self at all. Was she becoming affected by this house too?

“Not much,” she replied, almost calmly, pausing to acknowledge Tate’s fingertips lightly running up and down her back. “Dad I’m really tired,” she groaned, “I just wanna –“

“Look, Vi,” he interrupted softly. “I know you’ve been going through a hard time lately, what with everything that’s happened recently with your Mom not to mention everything else you’ve had to deal with, but you need to snap out of this slump you’ve got yourself in,” he pleaded, taking her hands and cupping them between his, “it’s not healthy hiding away in your room for days on end, I never see you, you’ve not once visited your Mom in the psych ward. You’re behind with your school work and you’re gonna have to start thinking about college soon, I just want everything to go back to normal Violet, I want us to be a family again.”

Violet suddenly saw red. How dare he try and accuse her of making things difficult! He was the one who’d destroyed their family. They were happy before he decided to sleep with the tramp back in Boston, before he sent her Mom crazy and got her locked up. She swiftly removed her hands from his grip and lifted her feet from the floor, crossing her legs in an attempt to make herself as small and unapproachable as possible.

“Wow,” she snorted, “you really believe that don’t you, Dad?” She glared at him, her eyes darker than Ben had ever seen them, almost black. He squirmed in his seat.

“Violet I – “

“You know what, Ben?” She cut him off before he could go on, “Everything you just said, is complete bullshit. You are the one who destroyed our family, you are the one who made us move all the way here because you fucked up our lives in Boston by fucking one of your students while Mom was trying to get over having to give birth to your dead baby. This isn’t about me, it’s about you. You fucked up.” 

Tate smiled to himself, he could feel the hate seething within her as her body trembled in his arms. He soothed softly into her ear to remind her that he was still there, still with her, and always would be. She was finally starting to look at Ben the way he did; he didn’t deserve to be happy, didn’t deserve his perfect family. If you love someone you should never hurt them. Ever. He got up silently from the bed and walked over to the chalkboard.

Ben was lost for words, he always knew that Violet wasn’t afraid to speak her mind but she’d never lost it at him like this before. He did all he could to hold back tears as he looked deep into his daughter’s eyes, desperately trying to find any trace that was left of his little girl. But something had changed in her, and it scared the hell out of him. His little fighter that wasn’t scared of anything, who once looked at the world with bright curious eyes was now gone, and what looked back at him was cold, void of any life behind her new soulless black eyes.

“I know that Vi, I know that more than anyone, I just –“

“No you don’t, you don’t know because you never take responsibility for anything!” She was screaming at him now, as if to vent all the rage she’d been storing up over the past few months, all the pain she’d been suffering which he knew nothing about. “Did you ever stop and think that maybe Mom was reaching out to you, making a cry for help? You just plain assumed she must be crazy and sent her away! Just like you’re planning on doing to me. I know you’ve been calling boarding schools, I’m not stupid.” 

Ben stared at the floor, scrambling in his brain for something to say. He knew she was right, and everything suddenly felt like it was crashing down around him. He’d made a huge mistake by sending Vivien to that place, she was pregnant and she was alone and afraid, all because he’d made a snap judgement and let his work brain take over, his head ruled his heart and he took the quick fix. He looked up at the chalkboard and was shocked to see the word, “LEAVE” drawn on it. His heart panged sharply in his chest; he was sure it hadn’t said anything on it when he came in. He looked back at Violet who was still glaring at him, and took a long, defeated breath.

“I will make this right Violet, I will. I’m gonna bring your mom home and we’re gonna get out of here, all of us. We’ll find another house, far away from here where we can be together and start again.”

“Oh yeah, right,” Violet laughed, “just like when we moved here? A new house in a new place isn’t gonna solve our problems Dad, it won’t work, we’ve tried that already in case you didn’t notice and now I’m stuck here -. ” She choked on her words and could feel Tate’s eyes burning into her.

“Alright I’ve had enough of this,” Ben growled, “you may be upset with me but I am still your father! And what do you mean, you’re stuck here? You’ve been holed up in your room for weeks Vi! You more than anyone need to get out of this god damned place!” He got up out of his seat and grabbed Violet by her wrists, but she snatched them back before he could pull her entirely off of the bed. Tate looked on, it took all he had not to intervene. He knew she was in control but the thought of dragging Ben away from her and smashing his head repeatedly against the desk until there was nothing left but a bloody mash-up of bone, brain and blood was just too tempting. He clenched his fists together tightly to suppress the image of Ben’s blood pumping out of his battered skull that had clouded his mind.

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, getting up from the bed. “Don’t you get it? I’m dead! When you die in this house you don’t get to leave!” Ben stared in awe of her, her words confused yet terrified him. What the hell had happened to his daughter?!

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” He rushed towards her and held her face in his hands, searching her eyes, “Are you high?” A strange, cackling sound erupted from her, a sound he’d never heard her make in all her seventeen years on this earth. He was genuinely afraid, for her safety and her sanity.

“I wish,” she retorted, “Listen to me, you need to pack your bags, go get Mom, and get out of here. Go somewhere far away. It’s too late for me but I’ll be okay I promise. Tell Mom I love her, good luck with the babies.” Her voice had turned sad, Ben was certain she’d taken something; there was no other logical explanation for it. He stared at her with contempt as she sat back down on the bed and cried soft sobs into her pillow.

“I don’t have time for this,” he snarled, “I’m going to see your Mother and get her out of that place, right now.” He threw a towel at her as she sat with her head hung low, “Go have a shower, pack some things, we’re leaving, today. I’ll ask Moira to bring you up a sandwich, God only knows the last time you ate something.” 

“I dunno, I’m pretty stuffed on bullshit,” she mumbled angrily to herself, “just, go Dad, take Mom and the babies and never come back into this house. It’s not safe for you here.” He shook his head and looked at her one more time before he left.

“I mean it Violet,” Ben said sternly, “I will not have your mother see you like this, clean yourself up and get ready. As soon as I’ve picked her up we’re coming back for you and we’re leaving. Even if I have to carry your ass outta here.” He slammed the door behind him, thundered down the stairs and he was gone. Tate put the piece of chalk down and walked back over to the bed to her.

“Are you okay?” Violet sniffed loudly and pushed her hair off of her tear stained face. She looked up at Tate hopelessly as she wrapped his arms around her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she sighed, turning to look over at the chalkboard, “what was that about?” Tate giggled as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I just thought it would be fun to mess with him a little, you’re not mad are you?” He leant towards her and planted soft, lingering kisses along her neck, turning her around and on to his lap. He stroked her cheek, removing a stubborn tear that had stayed balanced on top of her cheekbone, leaving a kiss in its place.

“What am I gonna do, Tate,” Violet pleaded, hoping he’d have an answer because she sure as hell didn’t, “He doesn’t believe me, I mean who would? It’s bat shit!” Tate put a finger to her lips and quietly hushed her.

“Don’t worry about it now,” he whispered, smiling that reassuring smile, and bowed his head to caress her neck again, his other hand sliding down past her waist and underneath her dress, lifting it up over her head and threw it on the floor, her long hair tickling her as it fell against her bare back. She shuddered at the sudden chill, and at the power Tate had over her. No matter what else was going on he had the ability to make her forget it all. She closed her eyes and tilted her head as his lips ran down her collarbone, goose bumps following his trail.

“But – “ she whimpered, but before she could finish Tate took her chin in his hand and crushed his lips against hers; his kiss was soft yet demanding, telling her not to say another word and to give herself to him, to lose herself. She quickly obeyed.

He laid her down on the bed and looked down at her for a moment, taking in the sight of her naked body. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and it was all his. He pulled down his jeans, taking them off, and crawled on top of her, kissing her all the way from her ankles up to the tops of her thighs. Her entire body shook as he slid up the bed, every touch felt electric. She could feel his warm breath on her skin, she could feel herself getting wet as her pussy tingled.  
He was taking in every inch of her, teasing her, seeing how long it would take before she lost all control and demanded that he fuck her, and that he would never refuse her. He let the very tip of his tongue lightly touch her clit which sent her into a frenzy, loud gasps escaping her throat as she writhed on the bed underneath him.

“Tate please,” she breathed helplessly, “I need you to make me forget.” He looked up from between her legs and moved up the bed so they were face to face. He smiled down at her, euphoric that only he could make her feel this way, that she was begging him to do things to her that no one else had, that no one else ever would so long as he had his way. He leant down and kissed her, his tongue playing with hers. He positioned himself so that his hard cock was ever so slightly inside her as she moaned into his mouth.

“Say please…Again,” he whispered, slowly pushing himself into her. She needed him inside her, she needed him to let her lose control and to forget everything that had happened, and everything that she knew was going to happen. She looked up into his eyes, licked her lips and sighed as she could feel him slowly filling her.

“Please.” 

The sound of her begging him was all he needed to hear, and he thrusted roughly into her, over and over again. She threw her head back and bucked under his weight as he ground her into the bed, pinning her arms above her head, grunting loudly as he pounded her pussy into oblivion. She yelped as he bit and licked and sucked down on her breasts, leaving violent purple marks all over her chest. He swiftly turned her over and pulled her hips roughly towards him, forcing himself back inside her as her muffled screams emanated from the pillow. He tugged her hair to one side and roughly bit down on the flesh on her shoulder, leaving marks to match the ones he’d made on her chest as he took her from behind. She clung to the sheets and cried into the pillow, his length slamming into her repeatedly as his other arm came around her waist and searched for her clit, rubbing her there until a wave of ecstasy flooded through her. She felt as if she had no control over her body.

“Tate, I...I’m coming,” she panted as her body shook uncontrollably, her legs threatened to buckle beneath her but his own held her in place.

“Yeah, that’s it, come for me Violet, come with me,” and with one long hard final thrust they came harder together than they ever had before and collapsed. He climbed off of her and laid beside her as they caught their breath. He turned to face her and kissed her softly on the cheek.

“Everything’s gonna be okay baby,” he purred, “I love you.”


	8. Some kind of monster

As the car pulled into the driveway, Vivien could feel the overwhelming feeling of dread come over her like a noose around her neck. She sat frozen in her seat, staring at the front door of the house. Ben took her hand in his and gave her a reassuring smile.

“I’m not going in there, Ben,” she said sternly, “I just can’t.” He gave her hand a squeeze and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.

“You don’t have to,” he replied, releasing her hand and turning to open the car door, “I told Violet to make sure she’s ready by the time we got back, I’ll go get her and we can hit the road, okay?” She nodded and smiled as he got out and jogged up to the door, disappearing into the house. 

She settled a little more into her seat, the noose releasing itself from around her neck, allowing her to relax. She smiled again, a real smile this time at knowing that she would never have to set foot in this awful house ever again. Once they’d got to her sister’s in Florida she and Ben could work things out, but for now all she could think of was getting Violet out of there and leaving LA forever.

It was almost as if one of the babies, sensing her fear, was opposed to the idea and had decided that he didn’t want to leave, because at that very moment something inside Vivien’s belly stirred, sending a white hot flash of pain through her body; her howl so blood curdlingly loud it send a flock of sparrows flying from the tree at the end of the drive and up into the air. She doubled over in pain and clutched at her stomach, as if holding it would keep her insides from falling out onto the floor.

“Ben!” She could barely get the word out she was in so much pain, the contractions were coming worryingly fast, she thought she might pass out. She struggled with the latch and once she managed to open the car door she fell out into a crying heap on the ground. She could hear the crunching of gravel as someone rushed over to her.

“My God child, whatever’s the matter?” Vivien peered up, still clutching her pulsating stomach which now felt like she was being stabbed by a thousand knives from the inside. Constance looked down, slowly coming to crouch down on the ground beside her. As she saw Vivien curled up on the ground in agony, she smiled; it was time.

“Constance,” she panted weakly, “please, go inside and get Ben, I need to get to a hospital, something’s wrong!” Constance held both of her arms and gently brought her up to stand, holding most of her weight as Vivien cried out.

“Oh my word,” she gasped, “it’s the babies Vivien, they’re coming! We’ve got to get you into the house.” She rushed her over to the front door, Vivien’s feeble attempt to fight her off and get back to the car went unnoticed. 

“No, it’s too early,” she croaked, desperately trying to free herself from Constance’s grip, “I can’t, not in there not in that house, call an ambulance Constance, please!” Constance was almost dragging her into the house, the excitement on her face apparent.

“Oh no sweetheart, they’re not going to wait,” she giggled, forcefully guiding her into the house and over to a chaise lounge in the study, “they’re ready to come out, now you rest yourself here, I’ll call 911 and get some sheets and hot towels in the meantime, now where is that haggard old maid of yours?” She smiled sweetly at Vivien which disturbed her a little, but she had no choice but to obey, she could barely move she was in so much pain. She watched as she hurried off into the hallway, her thick heels clicking against the wooden floor. 

 

Violet stirred from her broken sleep. The one thing that comforted her about being dead was that she was still able to sleep; how else would she while away the never ending hours of her existence? She thought she could hear noises coming from downstairs, she hadn’t heard Ben come back, maybe it was one of the others. She scanned her bedroom; no sign of Tate.

‘Strange,’ she thought to herself, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up and Tate wasn’t there, whether he was lying asleep next to her, or watching her from the chair across the room. She opened her drawer and pulled out an old, over-sized ‘Nirvana’ t-shirt of Tate’s and quietly snuck out of her room.  
The hallways were dark and cold; she could see a faint light coming from one of the bedrooms on the other side and went towards it where she heard hushed voices.

“Maybe you should go down there,” she heard Chad chime through the crack in the door from out in the hallway, “one of those babies is yours after all. Don’t worry, it should be easy to tell which one, just look for the one with horns carrying a tiny pitchfork.” She heard someone else inside the room let out a quiet snigger. Who was in there? Was it her Dad?

“Shut up,” a familiar voice spitefully replied, “it’s not mine, it never was.” 

“Tate,” she whispered internally to herself. She was desperate to burst through the door and ask what they were talking about, what the hell was going on, but she held off, she wanted to hear more first, wanted to see if she could make sense of the conversation.

“Ah yes,” Chad said amusedly, “it’s for our little flapper girl, Mrs Montgomery. Tell me, Tate, are there any females left in this house who you haven’t attempted to impress with your wacky promises? If you’re offering babies left right and centre what are you planning on giving your little Sylvia Plath? Actually, don’t answer that, I’m not sure I even want to know.” Tate stared darkly at Chad whilst him and Patrick busied themselves painting the two cribs, his fury rising. He lunged at Chad and shoved him up against the wall, holding him in place by his neck.

“Hey! Don’t you touch him!” Patrick yelled, rushing over to the two of them; Chad began to laugh.

“It’s alright, Patrick, he’s just a little worked up,” he mused, smirking, staring straight into Tate’s eyes. “As would any expectant father be on such a wonderful, blessed day. It’s very exciting isn’t it, Daddy?” He winked at Tate, sending him over the edge.

“I swear to God I’ll -” He spat, his grip around Chad’s neck tightening, the other arm pulling back behind him, his fist clenched. Chad grabbed the arm and threw it away from him, releasing himself.

“Oh you’ll do what?” He hissed, his amusement fading, replaced by anger, “Haven’t you done enough already? Or did drowning and shooting me not quite satisfy your appetite? Too bad for you because I’m already dead and stuck in this fucking hell-hole that will never be exactly the way I want it, because of you.” He was furious now, tears of rage sparkled in his eyes. “So what, what else can you do, huh, I’d really like to know what you could possibly do, that’s worse than this?”

“Tate?” Violet came from around the corner and into the room to see him stood in front of Chad and Patrick, who now became amused once again. He sauntered over to her and took her by the hand, guiding her into the room to stand next to Tate, swinging his arm around her shoulder.

“Well, how’s that for perfect timing?” He exclaimed happily, clapping his hands together. “Violet! Have you met our resident, Norman Bates? He’s very excited as are we all here, we’re just twiddling our thumbs waiting for news on his first born son!” He was grinning maniacally now, his excited eyes shifting between the two of them. Tate’s expression was a picture of terror, Violet’s was one of utter confusion.

“Tate, what is he talking about?” Tate’s eyes glazed over, filling with tears of both fear and rage at Chad for having exposed his secret. He took her by the hand and pulled her to him by the waist, internally pleading with her to forget everything she’d just heard.

“Now that is the million dollar question,” Chad sighed, “you remember the story of the legendary ‘Rapist in the rubber suit’ your mother was trying to tell you about? Well ta-dah!” He whacked Tate on the shoulder, the force knocking him forward “Here he is!” He smiled mischievously at her as she looked up at Tate, searching for some kind of answer, to make sense of this. He gave her a pained look as the tears spilled from his eyes, running down his cheeks.

“Wh-what? What is he saying, Tate?” He kept his eyes towards the floor, not saying a word. The frustration inside her bubbled over. “Tate, what does he mean?!” Chad and Patrick gleefully looked on at the spectacle. She pulled on Tate’s arm, grabbing his face and pulling it towards her with her other hand. “Look at me,” she demanded, “and tell me what he means.” He looked at her under hooded eyes, his tear stained cheeks made her feel a pang of sympathy, but she shook it off, she had to know what he was hiding. With both of his hands he took hers and rushed them both out of the room and down the hallway; the faint sound of laughter echoed behind them. He led them back into her bedroom and closed the door slowly behind him. She stared at him as he stood facing it, then slowly turned around.

“Violet,” he whispered urgently, “don’t listen to him, he’s lying. All of it, please don’t listen to him.” He walked over to where she was stood, unable to move, trying to process what she’d heard. She let out a long, shaky breath and looked up at him.

“But why would he say that, Tate?” She asked weakly, “what did you do to him?” The guilt on his face was the only answer she needed. She knew he was capable of killing; he had before. “Tell me the truth, Tate, was what he said true? About him? About my Mom?” She held his arms by his sides as he slumped his shoulders in defeat, clambering onto the floor, cross legged. His face crumpled as floods of tears fell down his face.

“No,” he squealed, choking on the sobs building in his throat.

“Did you rape my mother?” He looked up at her as if looking into her eyes physically pained him. He clenched them shut, shaking his head violently, trying to wake himself up from this horrible dream.

“Answer me, Tate. Did you rape my mother..?” The shaking turned into nodding, he clutched at his head with both hands, digging his fingernails into his skull. Loud sobs filled the room. “Oh my God.” Violet stepped back, her hands clasped over her mouth. Tate crawled quickly across the room, grabbing her by the ankle and holding onto her leg, looking up at her like a little boy who’d lost his mom at a grocery store.

“I don’t –“ he whimpered, “I don’t know. Why would I do that Violet? Why would I do that?” He got up off the floor and pulled her into his arms, squeezing her as tight as he could to stop her from escaping. Her arms stayed firmly by her sides as she built up enough strength to push him away.

“How? How could you?” She gasped, “after everything we’ve done, and all this time you were the one who sent my mom crazy, and you – you raped her?! I feel sick!” She stepped back once again, shaking her head; her arms held out in front of her as he tried to find a way into them.

“Violet, please,” He sobbed, reaching out to her, “listen to me please.” She backed away until she found herself with her back against the far wall of her room. He came to stand right in front of her, pinning her arms by her sides and kissing her hard on the lips before she had a chance to protest; she groaned against him as she tried to fight him off. She pulled back and turned her head away from him, squirming in his arms. His touch that used to set her skin on fire now made it crawl.

“Tate, don’t touch me, get off me please,” she cried, trying to match his strength and free herself from his tight grip, “get off me, Tate, let me go!” He refused to release her, holding her in place while she struggled. “No, you're a monster! Go awa –“ She screamed, but he was too quick, he swiftly released one of her wrists and held both above her head with one hand, placing the other over her mouth.

“No no no, Violet,” he cooed, “you promised you’d never do that again, remember?” Her large eyes gawped at him as he held her against the wall; she was no match for his strength. “You can’t do that!” He was hysterical; the crazed look in his eyes terrified her. “Please don’t tell me to go away again Vi, I just, I just don’t know what I’d do. You’re the only thing that keeps me normal, you know?” He smiled at her, that smile that would always make her knees feel weak. She clenched her eyes shut; she couldn’t let him control her, not now, she needed to get away.   
“I don’t wanna do this Violet, I’m not gonna hurt you; but I have to know that I can trust you. Are you gonna scream or try and run if I let you go?” His eyes darted between hers, looking for the loving glint in her eyes that always made him feel as if his still heart beat again. She shook her head, and he carefully removed his hand from over her mouth.

“Tate, I don’t - ,” she said weakly, tears trickling down her cheeks like diamonds. He took her face in his hands and kissed them away. She'd always liked it when he did that before, it made her feel safe; loved. Now his touch felt like acid; sour, and raw. She cringed away from him as his hands cupped her cheeks.

“I love you, Violet, I love you so much. I’m not the same person as I was before. You came and changed all that; please believe me. Stay with me, I don't know how yet, but I’ll put this right, I promise.” She’d heard those words before, but not from him, but from her father; she felt helpless, too scared to run in case Tate did something terrible. He couldn’t hurt her, she was already dead, and she knew he wouldn't; of all the lies he'd told her she knew that he would never hurt her; but he could hurt her family. He could do something to her mom or the babies. She winced at the thought and closed her eyes; she had to make him trust her. She slowly looked up at through the glassy sheen of tears.

“Okay Tate,” she said, “I’ll stay.”


	9. "You are the darkness."

“Violet?” Ben called, “Violet come on I told you to be ready before I brought your Mom home! Now move your butt we’re leaving!”

The halls echoed around him, but there was no sign of life upstairs. Ben was becoming more and more agitated; he knew Vivien would be out in the car, worrying, getting angrier as she waited to get away from this God damned house, and lately Violet had been nothing but a pain in the ass; he had no idea what was wrong with her lately, or more worryingly what was in those cigarettes she’d been smoking; but all he knew was that once they were out of this house and were soaking up the warm, Florida air, all would be right again, and he for one couldn’t wait. He stormed over to Violet’s bedroom and with enough force to remove the door from its hinges, pushed it open with an almighty shove. His eyes darted around the room, and nothing other than an eerily icy draft greeted him. He muttered under his breath as he entered, walking around to the bathroom in the corner, and once again pushed the door with a hard thrust.

“Vi I swear to God I’ll-“ She wasn’t there. He was close to losing it, frantically re-tracing his steps back around the room; still, no sign of life.  
“I do not have time for this, Violet,” he strained, “and neither does your Mother! I’m sick of these little games Vi, and if you’re not downstairs and ready to go in five minutes, I can’t be held responsible for what I might do!” With that warning he headed back out into the hall, where he heard a scream that made his blood run cold.

“Vivien?!” He cried; he was met with another scream so loud it vibrated through the floorboards and up through his entire body. As fast as his legs would allow he flew downstairs to his crying wife.  
_________________________________________________________________________________

“Tate, please, let me go to her,” Violet quietly begged, her head turned to face him, her eyes pleading with him to release her; “It’s my Mom, something’s not right, Tate, please?!” He looked down at her solemnly, his eyes blacker than the crawl space he’d not long led her into to reveal to her, her own dead body; the thought flashed through her mind and made her skin pulsate with rage and disgust, but now wasn’t the time to reflect on the past or lives lost; she had to get to her Mother; she had to help her.

“It’s too late,” Tate replied, his arms still locked around her as he stood behind her in her bedroom closet. As silly as he felt hiding in the closet, he knew Violet would try and reveal herself to her Father, to warn him or to beg for help, and he couldn’t allow that; not while he still hadn’t figured out what to do, and how to keep Violet from running away and distancing herself from him forever. He became silent, and Violet was becoming restless, squirming in his arms, until his grip on her loosened and she freed herself from his embrace. She burst through the closet doors as he reached out after her and grabbing her by the arm, turned her back to face him.

“Tate, I need to see what’s going on, I mean, she could be hurt, there could be something wrong with the babies; I have to help!” He stared back at her, his gaze cold, unlike the gentle, loving boy she’d once knew, the gentle, loving boy she once thought Tate was.

“There’s nothing you can do for her anyway,” he replied, “besides, I can’t trust you, and I can’t lose you.” He forcefully led her over to the chair at the end of her bed, the one he’d often used to sit on while she slept, and with a gesture, instructed her to sit down. With a pained sigh, she relented.

“I said I’d stay with you, didn’t I? She looked up at him as he paced the room, a grimace painted on his face as his eyes darted around in his head. “I meant it; I’m not gonna run. What can I do to show you that you can trust me?” He stopped pacing, and frowned at her from the corner of his eye. She slowly rose from the chair as he came to meet her; taking her by the hands as he looked deep into her eyes; so deep it felt invasive, as if he’d managed to see inside her. She gave his hands a light squeeze, took a deep breath and looked back into his.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” Tate was apprehensive; he knew she couldn’t mean it; not after what she’d found out about him. Something was going on, but the way she made him feel was threatening to take over all rational thought. Violet, took in another unsteady breath.

“I said, kiss me. I want you Tate; Please?”

The last word was all he needed to hear; he pulled her to him and crushed his lips upon hers, his arms wrapped themselves around her waist as he lifted her up and staggered over to the bed in a heated frenzy; Violet gasped with the little breath she had as he laid her down and clumsily climbed on top of her, taking in a sharp breath before claiming her mouth again, his tongue finding hers as he groaned euphorically on top of her.

“Tate,” she whispered,” desperately trying not to enjoy it; hating herself for loving the way he made her feel, the way her body felt electric every time he touched her; she could feel herself getting wet, and she scolded herself internally; she couldn’t help it, she was lost inside herself. He clawed at the neckline of her shirt and pulled the fabric apart into two clean pieces, throwing them onto the floor as his hands expertly fondled her breasts; her nipples peaked under his fingers; and then under his tongue as he flicked gently at each one; licking and sucking like a man starved.

He growled into her mouth as she groaned softly into his; his hands had wandered up her skirt and had found their way into her soaking wet panties; immediately finding the slick heat there, begging for his hands, his tongue; but most of all, for him. He quickly pulled them aside and plunged a finger inside her, making her cry out in unexpected ecstasy, and again even louder when another finger came to join the first.

“Tate, please,” she breathed, the words barely escaping her; she could barely breathe as she tried to stop the tears from cascading down her cheeks.

“What is it, baby,” He smirked as he planted soft kisses along her throat. He bit down hard, piercing the skin as she squealed and squirmed beneath him; the blood trickled down her neck and he followed the trail with his tongue; “You want more?” He withdrew his fingers from her as he slowly unfastened his jeans; rolled back on to his heels and climbed off of the bed to stand before her. He looked down at her; her face was flushed and tear stained, and he decided he liked her this way; begging for him.

She peered up at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly; the wound on her neck was pumping a thin streak of blood along her neck, past her shoulder and onto the pillow.  
“I know what you want,” Tate teased, “but I want you to give me something in return first.” Violet moved to lean up on her elbows, as she caught her breath and looked up at him, she could see he was enjoying this, enjoying making her squirm and beg.

“What is it?” She asked nervously; “what do you want?”

“Do you love me, Violet?” His eyes turned dark again, which chilled her to her core; a wave of nausea came over her as her eyes fixated on the bed; she knew what he was doing, but worst of all she knew what she had to do. She looked back up at his perfect, naked body, waiting to take her, waiting to claim her; and then into his eyes. 

“Yes. I love you, Tate.” 

The words hurt as they escaped her throat; she almost wanted to reach into the air and take them back into herself; for how could she ever love someone that had done all those terrible things to her and her family? Not to mention all the other people in this house that had suffered because of him. 

He came to crouch down in front of her; to search her eyes for the truth; but luckily for Violet she’d always been a good liar; even as a child she could lie her way out of pretty much anything. She just hoped Tate wouldn’t be the one to see through her. A smile slowly spread across his face and a wave of relief rushed through her. He cupped her face in his hands, pulled her slowly towards him and kissed her tenderly. Her entire body was shaking as he moved back on top of her; she could feel his hardness pressed against her and made its way towards her entrance. He opened his eyes and once again looked down at her; she feigned a small smile of feigned reassurance and with one swift movement he buried himself deep inside her. They cried out in unison; his thrusts becoming deeper and harder as if to claim his dominance over her once and for all. Her pussy throbbed around him; her thighs were quivering and her feet were slipping. He became lost inside her; wild like a beast as he panted and grunted on top of her. Her body burned for him, but inside she was screaming. 

From the corner of her eye she spied the novelty crystal ball on the bedside cabinet, that Ben had got her as a gag gift one time on a trip to Jupiter, after he’d convinced her to sit with a Fortune Teller at a circus carnival while he and Vivien giggled from behind the curtain; how she had hated him that day. She glanced up at Tate as she curled her fingers around the heavy ornament, and with all the force she could muster brought it with a crash down upon his head. A pained scream erupted from him as she shoved him off of her and clambered towards the door; grabbing a jacket as she sped out of the room.

“Shit,” she heard him roar as she sprinted through the hall and down the stairs; her Mother’s screams becoming louder as she ran. She jerked her head back behind her to make sure he wasn’t close, and sprinted towards the flickering light at the end of the hall; she had to get to her Mom.

After what seemed like an age she burst through the door into the candlelit room to be greeted by a group of solemn faces, and silence. Her Father was hunched over on the floor beside her Mother in a crumpled heap, sobbing uncontrollably, not even noticing his daughter stood at the door looking upon her dead Mother. She was still, with what looked like a sea of blood covering her.

“No,” she whispered in disbelief, “Mom?” Constance sidled over to console her, the wave of nausea coursing through her as she shrugged her off. “Don’t touch me,” she spat.

“Violet, child, I’m so sorry,” Constance soothed, reaching out to her again. Violet snarled in disgust as she backed out of the room and back out into the hall. She took deep breaths to compose herself and looked back down the hall towards her room where she had left Tate, and a red mist formed in her path.

Tate was sat on the bed angrily clutching his head in pain as he heard the door creak, and Violet appear from the shadows.

“Violet!” He exclaimed, “you came back!” She slowly walked into the room and stood at the foot of the bed as he watched.

“My Mom is dead,” she said coldly. He frowned at her and moved down the bed towards her

“I’m so sorry,” Tate said, reaching out for her hands, “I know you were close,” but she snatched them away.

“Yeah,” she said, “we were; and Dad’s down there all alone now.” He climbed over the bed frame to stand in front of her, still wary as her face remained expressionless, but never looking away from him.

“This is all your fault,” she said callously, “She’s dead because of you.” She stared into his eyes as he searched for something to say. He scrunched his eyes shut, taking in gulps of air between sobs as she waited; she was curious to know what he’d do. Through thick wet lashes he blinked back up at her.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered as she snorted at him, shaking her head, almost amusement that she’d let this pathetic shell of a man control her for so long. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I-” Fresh tears filled Violet’s eyes as she allowed them to escape; Tate reached out to touch her, but she cruelly shrugged and backed away from him.

“You know, Tate, I used to think you were like me; you were attracted to the darkness,” Tate couldn’t bear to look at her; he knew he’d lost any hold he had once had on her. “But Tate, you are the darkness.”

“No,” he squeaked in protest, “before you that’s all there ever was; you’re the only light I’ve ever known.” She looked at him in disgust and disbelief. “You’ve changed me, Violet.”  
She reached out to caress his cheek as he whimpered with a shred of hope, as if his pain was being taken from him with her touch.

“I don’t believe that,” she said softly, “I don’t think you’re capable of loving anyone; and I don’t think you’re capable of changing.” His heart sunk as he choked on a loud sob.

“Please, Violet, please.”

“Tate, I can’t forgive you. You have to pay for what you did; all the pain you’ve caused, all the sorrow. You murdered my Mother!”

“No!” He cried out in protest.

“You did!” He was shaking his head violently, trying to wake himself up from this nightmare that he had caused; “that baby, whatever it was it killed her! I can’t be with you; I won’t be with you. You can’t control me anymore.” She backed further away from him as he mirrored her every step, longing to be close to her.

“What are you saying,” he mewled, his arms reaching out for her again.

“I’m saying, go away.”

“No, no Violet, no, you promised, you promised you wouldn’t, Violet you promised-“ He fell to his knees, begging with her. She looked down on him, almost pitying the pathetic creature she’d once loved.

“I mean it, Tate. Go…Away.”

“No, no, don’t do this!” He got back up to rush towards her, she found herself with her back against the wall.

“Go away, Tate!”

“You’re all I have!”

“GO AWAY!”

His screams filled the room, it sounded as if there were several voices echoing around her. She held her hands tightly over her ears and shut her eyes, hoping that when she opened them, he would be gone. Then, there was silence. She slowly opened her eyes and scanned the room; he was gone. She tried to catch her breath, and her body heaved with loud sobs. She wrapped her arms around herself, now alone in her room. She could do nothing but cry her heart out.

“Ssssshhhh,” a soft voice came from behind her, light fingers caressed her hair and a gentle hand held on to hers. “That was very brave,” Vivien soothed as she held her daughter. A feeling of sadness came over her; not for her, but for Violet, who now had to spend eternity in this house. Then she smiled, for now no one could hurt them, and she suddenly felt more content than she’d ever felt since moving in.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tate laid silently on the ground. It was cold and damp; covered in flies and dried blood. It was so black it was blinding, but Tate had not moved from this spot since Violet had sent him away.

“God, are you still moping down here?” Hayden groaned in the darkness, “Get over it man; she’s not into you, you’re not getting back into her.” Tate didn’t say a word; Hayden grew bored, and impatient.

“Whatever,” she said, turning away, “rot down here for all I care, but if you’re waiting for her you’ll be waiting for a long time.” Her voice echoed through the walls as she disappeared, and he was alone once again. He closed his eyes and clung to the lifeless body that lay beside him, the body that was now almost completely decayed. He caressed what little hair the head of the corpse still had and buried his nose into it; breathing in Violet’s scent that had now turned sour and rotten.

“I’ll wait,” he whispered, “forever if I have to…”


End file.
